


If She Looked Over

by mrsfizzle



Series: If She Looked Over [1]
Category: DCU, Smallville, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentor Fic, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 84,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24057892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsfizzle/pseuds/mrsfizzle
Summary: Begins right after 1x8, Jitters. Clark and Lex are both heroes after diffusing the hostage situation in Level 3 of Luthorcorp. Clark soaks in his parents' love, Lex envies him and suffers his father's apathy. What if Martha had glanced over and noticed his pain? Mentorfic. Cross posted from FFN.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Lex Luthor, Jonathan "Pa" Kent & Lex Luthor, Jonathan "Pa" Kent/Martha Kent, Martha Kent & Lex Luthor
Series: If She Looked Over [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856353
Comments: 162
Kudos: 70





	1. Looking over

Martha had never been so worried in her life.

She didn't need to be. Jonathan was always the one who worried about Clark's secret being discovered, but as a mother, her concern would always be for his safety—and somehow, even if she could never hint at it to her husband, she believed he would hold up just fine even if his powers were well known. Secondarily, she sometimes worried about whether he would use his powers for good, but her son never gave her reason to worry.

He was a teenager, of course, in every sense of the word. She hadn't forgotten about the party he'd thrown the night before, and she'd make sure he heard about it when things settled down. But tonight, she just wanted to focus on her joy.

He'd given her a real scare today. She wouldn't have worried about Clark facing down a gunman in a building full of gas. That was their luxury, that she almost never had to really worry about his safety.

But Earl had been infected by meteor rocks. If Clark had been nearby him, and the building had gone up in flames . . .

She didn't want to think about it. Her family was safe.

Remaining military members and plant employees and camera crews still milled around them, but it was as if they were alone. Clark wrapped one arm around her and one around his father, and Martha rested her head on his shoulder.

A long moment passed, and Martha let her breath out, letting go of her son. She glanced around herself, and a pair of gray eyes met hers for a half second before looking away.

She'd almost forgotten about Lex. That wasn't like her. She sympathized with the kid, despite what Jonathan said about him; she could read between the lines in the news stories and knew his life wasn't as easy as the media suggested.

That half second glance told her everything she needed to know. She couldn't remember ever having seen a single glance betray so much pain.

Lionel's arms surrounded Lex lightly, stiffly patting his back at awkward intervals. It was clearly a gesture intended for the cameras, though she couldn't imagine why he bothered. Lionel looked so apathetic, and Lex so miserable, that the truth shone through.

She had misinterpreted. Viewed their family with the lens of her own. Despite all their fighting, Martha had held onto the belief that Lionel still loved Lex. What father could not love his own child? She had been so, so wrong. There was no love in their home. The way Lex's body flinched even as he submitted to the contact—that was the body language of an abused child.

And Lex had been brave today. Even Jonathan would have had to admit that. It was one thing for Clark to stare down a gunman, knowing the bullets could never pierce his skin. It was quite another for a vulnerable human to do the same, and stand up to his father in the same move. A father of whom he was clearly terrified.

She wasn't going to let him go home to an abusive household. Not tonight. He deserved better than that.

"Hey," Clark said, pulling his arms away, "can I go check on my friends?"

Pulled from her reflections, Martha was slow to speak, and Jonathan spoke instead: "I think that's a terrific idea."

Clark flashed one of his brilliant smiles that always made Martha's heart feel full to bursting, and he jogged away.

Jonathan's eyes met hers, and both laughed with relief again, melting into each others' arms. Even then, Martha was deep in thought about what she would say next. Jonathan wasn't going to like it.

"He was a hero today," she began.

"Yes he was."

"Running into a building that could have exploded any minute, standing up to an angry gunman, saving a building full of hostages, nearly falling to his death—"

"I don't think I've ever been so proud—"

"And standing up to his abusive father."

His brow furrowed. "Martha?" He searched her eyes.

She nodded toward Lex.

He glanced over, and his smile fell. "No, no. Not him."

"Yes. Him."

"Honey, he didn't do anything. He just ran in there like an idiot, he would have died in there if Clark hadn't—"

"Exactly. He would have died. He tried to sacrifice his life for Clark's."

"Well, maybe he knew about level 3. He knew he could get out of it."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know what to believe! All I know is that the Luthors—"

"Lionel. You only know about Lionel. Lex has been a good friend to Clark, that's all we've seen. And today he was a hero."

Jonathan was silent for a moment before grunting and looking away.

Martha's temper flared for just a moment, and she took a deep breath to get it under control. He could be so _stubborn_. "Well, either way, he looks miserable after that talk with his father, and I feel bad. I'm going over to check on him."

"Martha, he's fine. He's got an army of servants who will be flocking to his every need when he gets home."

She paused for a moment. He was right about that—there wasn't going to be much she could do. Maybe she should just stay out of this one.

But something in her, that maternal instinct that had arisen so strongly when she first saw Clark, wouldn't keep silent. She just had to make sure.

"I'm just going to ask if he's okay," she said.

He groaned. "Fine, but come right back."

* * *

Lex paced a little as his father stormed away. He was still seething from the argument that had begun as soon as the camera crews packed up. His father was angry that Lex had made a public promise to pay for Earl's medical care. Lex tried to argue that it was just for the PR, but his father always saw right through him. Saw his weakness—his compassion. Today, there was more, though—Lex's desire to rub the day's disaster in his father's face.

He knew this conversation wasn't over, that there would be more berating when he got home. It might come to blows. Lex didn't think he could take that. His head still pounded from the pistol whipping, and his hands and knees throbbed with a dull heat from hitting the floor of the plant.

A soft pressure on his arm made him whirl around. "Mrs. Kent," he said. "How—"

He didn't get to finish his question. She put both arms around him, pulling him in close.

Lex stiffened. He hadn't been a hugger since his mother had passed away—he hated being touched at all, especially affectionately. He would rather his father strike him than try to embrace him. His father's blows might have hurt, but those light touches taunted him, tormented him, holding the one thing Lex wanted and needed right at the surface of his skin but never allowing him to keep it.

But Mrs. Kent's embrace was different. She wasn't holding anything back from him. She held him the exact same way he'd just seen her holding Clark. The same way Lex's mom used to hold him.

He'd forgotten how it felt. He felt all of his muscles begin to relax, and he rested his arms around her in return.

When she let go, his cheeks burned hot, and he couldn't think of what to say. He settled for the question he was going to ask in the first place: "How is Clark?"

"He's fine. I just came over to say thank you."

She was thanking him? Clark had saved _his_ life. "For what?"

"You did a good thing today, running into that building. You were brave. Earl wasn't in his right mind, you could have been shot, but you went in there anyway."

"This is my plant. It was my responsibility."

"You did a good thing." Her eyes pierced his.

He swallowed hard. He didn't know how to respond to that. It had been so long since anyone had said it.

"Clark told me about what happened on the catwalk. Are you okay?"

Images of the fifty foot drop filled his mind. He pushed them aside, absently rubbing the back of his head. "I've been worse."

"And I'm sure you've been better. I'm sorry all this happened."

He looked away from her. He'd meant to apologize to _her_ for everything that had happened, for Clark having been in danger under his watch.

She put a hand on his back. "Get some rest tonight. You deserve it."

"I will. You too, Mrs. Kent." He glanced toward his father, and grimaced.

Then he felt her eyes on him.

There was a long pause. His heart pounded—he hadn't meant to show his fear while she was watching.

"When's the last time you've eaten, Lex?"

He hadn't, not today. "Shortly before I came to the site."

"It's been hours, then. Why don't you let the authorities finish their work here, and join us for dinner in the meantime?"

"I couldn't possibly impose—"

"I insist."

He didn't want to. Mrs. Kent had been kind to him, and he always enjoyed the time he spent with Clark, but Mr. Kent clearly hated him. But maybe he agreed with Mrs. Kent that Lex had done a good thing today. Maybe he'd give him a fair chance, for once. Either way, spending the evening with the Kents meant time for his father to cool off, which might save Lex's skin, or at least give it time to recover from today's injuries before being in danger again. Maybe dinner with the Kents was the reprieve he needed.

Something in Mrs. Kent's eyes told him he didn't have much of a choice, anyway.


	2. Sympathy

Convincing Jonathan to have a Luthor at their dinner table would have been impossible if Martha had bothered to try. She didn't. She simply marched Lex over to him, informed Jonathan of her invitation, and continued walking toward the car.

Jonathan tripped over his words several times as he stumbled to follow them, but Martha only gave him a glare and gave Lex's arm a quick squeeze.

Clark was waiting for them at the car. "Pete and Chloe already went home, and Lana is with Whitney at the hospital."

Martha nodded. "Lex is joining us for dinner tonight," she said.

Clark beamed, then his smile faded as he glanced warily at Jonathan. Jonathan didn't meet his gaze, but simply trudged over to the driver side door and slid into the car. He reached across to unlock the passenger door for Martha, but he didn't open it for her like he usually did.

Martha bit back a sigh and opened the door for Lex before she settled into her own seat. She adjusted the rearview mirror so she could see his face. He stared out the window at the military vehicles driving away, elbow braced against the windowsill, palm pressed to the back of his neck.

Jonathan abruptly shifted the mirror back into its original position and sped away.

Martha shot him a quick glare before forcing herself to relax and glancing back at Clark, who smiled back at her. "Clark, we didn't get to see much of what was going on inside on the monitor. Would you mind telling us again what happened in there?"

"Well, I didn't really see how it started. I'd run off to try to find level 3, and the next thing I know, they're evacuating the plant. I managed to get back to the room where he had everyone so I could show him the blueprints, but he wasn't listening to me. Then you know what happened after that—Earl broke the gas pipe, so the building was filling up with methane, and then Whitney got hurt, and I was starting to think I wasn't going to be able to stop Earl—"

"And that's when Lex arrived?" She turned to look over at Lex, but he continued to stare out of the window, still gripping his neck, his sightline only flicking over to meet hers for a half second.

"Yeah. You should have seen him, Mom. He didn't even look scared. He comes in, takes off the vest, and starts telling Earl that Lionel doesn't care about him. He tells him to let us all go, and he'd tell him where Level 3 was. And he didn't even know where it was!"

"That was very brave. Wasn't it, Jonathan?"

Jonathan only grunted.

Martha sighed. She'd have to talk with him later. It was one thing for him to take his anger for Lionel out on Lex in private; it was another to be rude to him in person, especially after he'd saved their son's life. "What did Earl say when you told him the truth, Lex?"

Lex blinked and met her eyes, though his gaze was distant. "He wasn't happy."

"Did he hurt you?"

"I walked out of there just fine, so what do you think?"

She gave him the look she gave to Clark when he was disrespectful to her, the face he could never lie to. "I think I asked you a question, young man."

His jaw pulsed. "Not really. I mean, getting pistol whipped in the head wasn't exactly fun—"

"In the head!" Martha cried.

"I think I heard that over the intercom," Clark said.

"No, you heard me getting shoved onto the floor, not—" Lex's voice stopped suddenly, his face turning bright red.

Martha's teeth clenched. She hadn't realized Earl had gone so far off the deep end. She'd need to check for concussion as soon as they got back to the house. No wonder Lex kept rubbing his neck—he was probably suffering from whiplash. And if he'd been about to say that he'd been shoved to the floor, his hands would probably be torn up as well, in addition to any damage they'd faced when he was dangling from the catwalk.

She couldn't believe she'd almost allowed Jonathan to convince her not to check in on Lex. An army of servants would do Lex no good if he wouldn't confide his injuries to any of them. Based on his embarrassment now, she couldn't imagine him having been willing to do so.

* * *

Lex fidgeted in the hard wooden chair at the Kents' dinner table, reminding himself not to grip the back of his head anymore. Mr. Kent and Clark had gone outside to finish some chores they'd been kept from because of the day's events. Mrs. Kent was busy at the kichen counter. He'd offered to help, but she'd told him to sit and relax.

She slid a large glass dish into the oven, then came to sit across from him at the table, her eyes piercing his. "Did a medic talk to you after you came out of the building?"

"There was no need."

"Not even to check for concussion?"

He swallowed. "I'm fine, Mrs. Kent."

"Lex, I need you to answer my questions honestly. Can you do that?"

He wasn't usually honest about his wellbeing—his father had ingrained in him that complaining about his injuries was weakness. But his father wasn't here, and judging by Clark, the Kents didn't seem to live by the same rules as the Luthors. Lex nodded, then barely suppressed a wince at the shooting pain in his neck.

"Did you black out after the gun hit you?"

"No. Well, maybe for a second. I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?" She frowned. "You didn't pass out, though."

"No. I fell, and Earl had to lift me back onto my feet. Even if I did black out, I was awake." In that moment of agony, he had wished he wasn't.

"Any dizziness or nausea?"

"Not now. Then . . ." He had felt quite sick, but he'd been feeling that from the moment he set foot in the plant knowing his life was probably over. Despite Mrs. Kent's kindness, he wasn't willing to admit he'd been quite that afraid. "Maybe a little dizziness."

"Ears ringing at all?"

"A little, for a few seconds."

"How about now? How's the headache?"

He shrugged. "I've had worse."

"On a scale from one to ten, where ten is the worst you can imagine?"

"Um . . ." He thought back over the injuries he'd had over his life. Blows he'd taken from bullies in school, beatings from his father. Those had all damaged him more emotionally than physically. Compared to any of them, this was no higher than a one or two. But he knew she only meant the physical component. "Three?"

She gave him an incredulous look. "Fine then, don't think of ten as the worst pain imaginable. Think of it as the worst pain you've felt in your life."

 _Worst physical pain_ , he translated in his mind. "Six or seven, then," he said. "Maybe an eight when the gun first hit me."

She nodded. "Possibly a mild concussion, but probably not severe. I still think you should see a doctor tomorrow. May I see your hands?"

Lex hesitated for a moment, but he held them out. She turned them palms up and gently ran her fingers over the scraped skin. It reignited the heat, just a little, but it was more comforting than painful.

She stood and walked over to the kitchen sink, kneeling down beneath it to pull out a small first aid kit.

Lex stood, his chair pushing back. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but—"

"Sit."

Slowly, he did, though his heart pounded. She was trying to look after him, coddle him like he was a child. Allowing her to do so would show the exact kind of weakness and vulnerability that his father always warned him against.

"Hands."

"Mrs. Kent—"

"This won't hurt."

His face felt hot. _That's_ what she thought he was afraid of! He glanced toward the door, then back at her, and finally held out his hands, palms up.

"Thank you." She took a little paper pouch from the first aid kit, ripping it open and slipping out a cleansing wipe. "I'd use a disinfectant if the scrapes were any deeper, but it would sting. This won't."

He let his eyes fall closed as her fingers worked the gentle solution into his palms, mild pain and relief intermingling at the surface of his skin until she finally released her hold and there was only the coolness.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

He said nothing, taking his hands back and settling them on the table in front of himself.

She sealed back up the first aid kit and set it aside, standing and walking over to the freezer. She took out a bag of frozen peas, wrapped it in a dish towel hanging from the oven, and returned to the kitchen table.

Lex held out his hand to take the makeshift ice pack, but she gestured to his head. He grimaced, but allowed her to press the ice onto the knot where Earl had hit him.

He hissed in pain as, for just a moment, the pressure reintensified the throbbing. Then, as the cold numbness spread, he took deep, slow breaths.

Mrs. Kent rested a hand on his shoulder, and he took the ice pack from her, holding it in place himself.

"Any better?" she asked.

Something about the way she said it caused his mind to flash back. He was seven, and he'd scraped up his knee playing outside with some friends. His parents had been out for the day, and his nanny, Pamela, had been the one to scoop him into her arms and hold him while he cried. She'd sat him down on the bathroom counter, where she'd cleaned and iced the wounds.

 _Any better?_ she'd asked, and he'd nodded and thrown his arms around her.

Then she'd left him. When his mother died, only a few months after Julian, and he'd needed her the most, she'd left. She made him believe that she loved him, but she'd only been doing it for the money.

Lex could feel his pulse pounding in his ears as he looked up at Mrs. Kent. He lowered the ice and set it on the table. "What do you want?"

"I—I don't know what you mean."

"Why are you doing all of this? Did someone send you?"

"No, I'm just trying to help you. Lex, are you alright?"

"You have no reason to help me. I know your husband hates me."

"No, Lex. He doesn't hate you."

"Maybe not, but I know what your family thinks of mine."

"And Clark?"

Lex fell silent. Clark had saved his life twice already. That should have been enough to cause him suspicion, but he couldn't bring himself to believe Clark had done it with ulterior motives. Not that he wasn't suspicious of Clark—he was certainly a mystery, and he definitely wasn't telling the truth about what had happened the day he'd first saved Lex's life on that bridge.

But against everything he'd been taught, Lex trusted that Clark was his friend. Still, that didn't help him to trust Mrs. Kent. He knew she would side with her husband, given the choice, and he couldn't blame her for that, especially given the way the tabloids dragged the Luthor name through the mud.

"I should go," Lex said finally. "I don't know what you want from me, but I'm sure Mr. Kent doesn't want me here."

"Lex, Jonathan's having a hard time admitting it, but you saved a lot of lives today. I don't want anything from you; this town owes you a debt of gratitude. I saw the way your father was treating you after you came out of the building, and I saw the look on your face."

He stiffened at the mention of his father. "I don't need your sympathy," he spat.

"Fine, then I'll say it another way. You're Clark's friend. Any friend of Clark's is welcome in our home and at our table. It's no trouble at all. He's happy to have you here, and so am I."

"And tending to me like I'm an invalid? You do that for all of Clark's friends, too?"

She scoffed. "Sure, if they need it. You're not an invalid, but you were in pain. I cleaned your hands and gave you an ice pack. It was the least a decent person could do."

He breathed in to retort, but realized she was probably right—he was overreacting. Why was he reading so much into this? Was it really so hard to believe that someone could be kind to him without wanting something in return?

Well, yes. It was hard to believe. But he believed it about Clark, and this was Clark's mother.

Lex had once read somewhere that concussions could cause erratic behavior; he wondered if his sudden paranoia was a side effect of the injury. Either way, it had been a long time since anyone had noticed his pain, let alone tried to relieve it.

He wanted to apologize for his outburst, but found that apologizing wasn't something he knew how to do anymore. He thought instead to thank her for her kindness, but it felt weird to do that without first apologizing.

So he didn't say anything. Instead, he just quietly picked up the ice pack and replaced it on the back of his head. She smiled, gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, and returned to the kitchen counter to continue prepping for dinner.


	3. Concussion

Lex's father had wasted his time and money in hiring the best chefs in the state to work for the mansion. None of them had anything on Martha Kent.

The air had been a little tense as Clark and Mr. Kent reentered the house and sat down at the dinner table. Mrs. Kent kept her eyes on her work as she served each person far more than Lex thought he could eat in a sitting; Clark kept glancing back and forth between his father and Lex; Mr. Kent gave Lex a single glare before looking over at his wife and giving her a very-obviously-forced smile.

Lex felt the need to apologize for existing. That wasn't a new feeling in and of itself, but it was especially uncomfortable to feel that way while sitting next to Clark. Clark never made him feel that way.

Most of the tension melted away when Lex tasted the food, though. His eyes widened, then fell closed, and when he opened them, all three pairs of eyes were on him. They were smiling, and his face felt a little warm, but he managed to smile back a little after swallowing. After that, the conversation flowed naturally.

They talked about the farm for a little while, then Mr. Kent asked Clark about how the field trip had been before the situation with Earl. Clark repeated back some of the terrible jokes Gabe Sullivan had told their tour group, and Lex almost found himself laughing along with the rest of them—not because he hadn't heard the jokes before, but because he had, and he could imagine them in Gabe's voice.

An easy, comfortable conversation, stories and laughter over good food. It felt strange, like nothing he had experienced at home—at least, not since his mother died.

Clark stood and cleared away dishes from the table, then he began washing the ones in the sink. Mr. Kent wiped down the table and put away leftovers, while Mrs. Kent stood by Clark with a dish towel and dried the plates he handed to her.

Lex stood from the table and watched awkwardly, rubbing his neck. "Mr. and Mrs. Kent, thank you for dinner, and for everything, but I should let you get back to your evening. I'll go call a driver and—"

Mr. Kent breathed in to speak, but Mrs. Kent beat him to it. "Oh, you don't have to do that. I can give you a ride whenever you need to go."

The implication in her words was clear: she didn't want him to go yet. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Can I help with cleaning?"

Once again, Mrs. Kent spoke just as her husband was about to. "Not this time, Lex. Next time you're over for dinner, we'll put you to work, but I don't want you to overexert yourself right now. Why don't you get your ice pack and have a seat on the couch? We'll be out in a few minutes."

He almost missed what she'd asked him to do, and even when he realized it, his feet were slow to respond. Her words kept echoing in his mind: _Next time you're over for dinner..._

She didn't just feel sorry for him for his injuries. It wasn't even that she was trying to thank him for something he'd done today. She wanted to have him over again. As a friend, or at the very least, as Clark's friend.

He sat down on the couch in their living room. He pressed the ice pack into his head, but only because she'd asked him to. He felt no pain, and he barely registered the coldness of the ice. He was thankful he was alone in the living room, because as her words echoed in her mind over and over again, his idiotic grin only widened.

* * *

The four of them sat on the couch watching the news that evening. Martha sat between Lex and Jonathan, Clark sitting at the floor between herself and his father.

Martha periodically glanced over at Lex to make sure he wasn't falling asleep. Truthfully, she was hoping she would be able to convince him to spend the night in their guest room so that she could make sure his concussion wasn't getting worse. Granted, it would be easy to convince him if he did fall asleep on their couch, but she also wanted to check in with him and give him some pain meds before he turned in for the night.

Jonathan and Clark talked and commented on the news stories, and although Lex remained silent through their conversation, he didn't show any signs of drifting off yet.

All four of them quieted when the news reported about the day's events at LuthorCorp.

" _Mr. Luthor, what can you tell us about Level 3?_ " a reporter asked from behind the camera.

" _I think you're referring to a redundant storage area at the base of the plant,_ " Lionel told the cameras. " _Mr. Jenkins is a very sick man who desperately needs medical attention—_ "

Lex stepped out in front of his father. " _That's why my father and I have pledged to find Mr. Jenkins the best medical care possible. He was a LuthorCorp employee, and here at LuthorCorp, we always put family first. Isn't that right, Dad?_ "

Jonathan muted the television and looked past Martha, directly to Lex. "Is it true?"

"Jonathan," Martha warned, but he shook his head.

"I want to know," he said.

Lex frowned, taking the ice away from his head. "Which part?"

"Are you really going to pay for Earl's medical care?"

"Yes, we are. I said it on television so that my father couldn't get out of it."

"Did you do it for Earl, or for the PR?"

Martha sat up to block Jonathan's view of Lex. "Jonathan, that's enough!"

"Dad, you're not being fair," Clark piped up.

"Stay out of this, Clark," Jonathan snapped, then narrowed his eyes at Lex. "It's a simple enough question."

Martha placed a hand on Jonathan's arm. "Jonathan, Earl took Lex's employees hostage, and Clark's classmates. He hurt Lex, and he almost got both Lex and Clark killed. If there's anyone to blame—"

"He was _sick_." Jonathan pulled his arm away from Martha and pointed a finger at Lex. "Because of _your_ company!"

"Dad!" Clark jumped up.

"No, it's okay, Clark." Lex sat up straighter and faced Jonathan. "You're right, Mr. Kent. I did feel responsible for what happened to Earl Jenkins. My plant is my responsibility. That's part of why I did what I did."

"And the other part?"

"To rub it in my father's face. He wasn't going to do anything for Earl, any more than he would have done anything for me. My father would have let me die today."

Silence. Martha watched Jonathan, ready to stop him if he tried to say something else, but he said nothing. If anything, his expression softened a little. She breathed a sigh of relief, hoping he'd picked up on the deeper truth behind Lex's statement: that he and his father weren't on the same side.

"This was a bad idea. I'm going to call a driver." Lex stood up from the couch.

He stood up a little too quickly. He gripped his temples and doubled over, gasping.

Martha stood and put an arm around his shoulders, supporting him so he didn't fall. "No, Lex. I'm going to take you up to our guest room. I'll drive you home in the morning."

"Mrs. Kent, I really don't think— _ahh_." Lex winced again.

"You're right, this was a bad idea. Watching the screen isn't good for your concussion, and neither is the stress. We should have had you sleep right after dinner."

"Then let me go home."

She glanced up at the screen again, where the news was wrapping up the story about LuthorCorp with a shot of Lionel holding Lex in a stiff, awkward embrace. Her blood boiled.

"Lex, is your father at the mansion?"

He straightened up a little, though keeping his hands on his temples. "Yeah, I think so."

"Then you're not going back tonight. We'll lend you a set of Clark's old clothes and a toothbrush, and I'll take you home in the morning." She glanced at Jonathan, daring him to argue, but he remained silent, holding up his hands slightly in a silent surrender.

Lex grimaced a little and stood up straighter, effectively shrugging away from Martha's supporting arm.

Martha stayed close by in case he stumbled. "Lex, I don't want your concussion to get any worse. I know you're going to have a tough conversation with your father, and I don't think you're ready for that tonight. So I'm taking you up to our guest room."

"Mrs. Kent—"

"I'll drive you home in the morning. But you're staying here tonight."

He hesitated a long moment, then nodded just slightly.

She held out an arm, which he accepted, and began to lead him toward the staircase.


	4. A Resolution

Martha had even less trouble than she'd thought getting Lex to settle into the guest room. He'd changed and brushed his teeth quickly and taken the painkillers without complaint. She'd come in to wish him good night and closed the door after herself, and the light from the crack under the door turned to dark only a few seconds later.

She was surprised and relieved. She couldn't imagine that kind of submission being easy for him, but it was amazing what complete exhaustion could do to a person. She also guessed that as harsh as Jonathan's words had been, Lionel's probably would have been much worse. Lex would rest easier in her home than in his own.

She went out to the living room, where Clark sat alone, watching the television.

"Time to turn it off, Clark."

He stood and turned off the TV. "Good night, Mom."

"Not yet. Set yourself an alarm, I'm going to need you to wake Lex up every two hours tonight to make sure his concussion isn't getting worse."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You're his friend. He'll respond better to you than to me."

"But I don't even know what to do."

"You ask him his name, where he is, and what year it is. If he can answer, you let him go back to sleep. If he can't, you come get me."

"Okay, I will. Hey, can I go to Pete's after school tomorrow?"

"No." She crossed her arms. "You're grounded for the next week."

" _What?_ Why?"

"For the party you threw while your dad and I were away. You know the rules for when you're home alone."

His eyes grew wide and sad. "But I cleaned it up, and I saved a bunch of people today, and—"

"Clark."

He flinched. "It's just, isn't having to wake up every two hours tonight enough punishment?"

She raised her eyebrows. "That is not a punishment. That's taking care of your sick friend."

"I do take care of my friends! I saved Lex's life today."

"And he saved yours today, too. But that shouldn't matter. I know you're always there for your friends when they're in danger, but there's more to being a good friend than that."

He sighed. "I know."

She smiled and reached out to embrace him. She knew he wasn't being obtuse or uncaring intentionally; he was just being a fourteen-year-old, trying to get out of being grounded. "I know you do. I'm still proud of you for today, sweetheart."

"Thanks, Mom." He buried his face in her hair.

She rubbed his back and before releasing him, though keeping hold of his shoulders for a moment and smiling as she looked into his eyes.

He squirmed in her grasp. "Three days grounding instead of a week?"

"Nice try." She clapped his shoulder and let go. "Go get ready for bed."

He sighed and trudged upstairs.

Ironically, she was more often the disciplinarian in their home than Jonathan was. Martha might have been more susceptible to Clark's puppy dog eyes at times, but Jonathan would often forget Clark's wrongs if Clark followed them up by using his strength or speed to save someone. It had made Clark more eager to use his abilities for good, but also less likely to learn from his mistakes, which could eventually be disastrous, given his power.

"I think you did the right thing."

Martha turned to face Jonathan, who was just entering the room. "Thank you."

"For both boys."

She raised her eyebrows. She hadn't been expecting to hear that from him. "What made you change your mind?"

"I haven't changed my mind about Lex. But that concussion looked bad."

"He got it trying to help."

"I don't know if I believe that, I'm still not convinced he's telling the truth about Level 3. But I can tell that he and Lionel aren't exactly on the same side."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around him. It was a step.

* * *

_Lex clung onto Earl, his grip slipping with every second that passed. He cried out to Clark for help, but when he looked up, Clark had left. Earl's foot kicked up, connecting with Lex's knee and catching him off guard for long enough that he lost his hold, and fell, and fell—_

"Lex."

Lex shot up in bed, breathing hard.

Clark took a step back. "Whoa. You okay?"

It took Lex a minute to figure out where he was. His head pounded in time with his heart, and the air in the room felt oddly cool; he glanced down to realize Clark's old t-shirt that Mrs. Kent had lent him was drenched in sweat.

Clark sat down on a chair beside the bed. "Nightmare?"

"Was I that loud?"

"No, I didn't hear anything until I came into the room."

Lex's breathing finally started to slow down, and he shifted so that he was sitting up against the pillow. "What are you doing here?"

"My mom says I'm supposed to check on you every two hours through the night. You know, to make sure you still know who you are and things like that."

He nodded, though his neck protested. "I'm okay, Clark."

"Are you?"

"Yeah. My head is okay." It still hurt, but nothing like it had throughout the evening. Mrs. Kent was right—the stress had been bad for him. But the dark room was helping, along with the sleep.

"Nightmare?" Clark asked.

"Yeah. I'm okay now."

"I get bad dreams sometimes. My dad says talking about them can help."

Lex leaned his head back against the solid headboard. He felt silly talking about it, and he wouldn't have if it were anyone but Clark, but it was worth a try, especially since this particular nightmare had been pretty tame compared to his usual fare. "Falling off the catwalk in Level 3."

Clark winced. "I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be. You're the one who saved me."

"You saved me too, today."

"You been having nightmares too?"

"No, I haven't been able to sleep at all."

Lex swallowed. "Get some rest." He reached out to put a hand on Clark's arm. "Thanks for checking in on me. I guess I'll see you in a couple of hours."

Clark nodded. He stood and took a few steps toward the door, but turned back. "I'm still supposed to ask you, do you remember your name?"

Lex half-laughed. "I've been holding up my end of the conversation, is this really necessary?"

"Probably not, but my mom's already kind of upset with me for the party the other night, so I'm not taking any chances. Your name?"

* * *

Martha didn't sleep much. She did what she always did when she was concerned Jonathan or Clark might be hurting or sick, which was to sit up on the couch reading through the night. Occasionally, she drifted into a light sleep, but never dozed off deeply enough that the softest noise out of the ordinary wouldn't wake her up. There was no trouble during the night, though, and the morning sun found her in the same position she'd settled into the evening before.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, which she might have expected. Between her own voluntary vigil, Clark's need to wake up Lex every two hours, and Jonathan's uneasiness at having Lex in the house, none of them had really slept well.

Martha made sure Lex took an extra dose of pain medication before walking him out to the car. She watched his steps carefully, just in case he showed signs that his concussion might be worsening. He seemed fine to her, though stiffer than the night before. Now that he was more alert, maybe he was embarrassed about having been vulnerable with her.

She couldn't worry about that. More than ever, she was convinced she'd done the right thing in taking him home. Watching that news story had only rekindled her worry about his home situation, and even now, it was difficult for her to allow him to return to the mansion, where his father would inevitably be waiting for him.

There was nothing more she could do for him right now, though. As young as he seemed to her, he wasn't a child; he was twenty-one. The best she could do was to keep an eye on him and invite him back to check in as often as she could invent reasons for having him over.

"Can you take me back to the plant?" he asked. "That's where I left my car."

"Of course," she said.

It was silent for a little while after that.

Martha finally spoke again when they were a couple of blocks from the plant. "What do you think your father's going to say about what you promised the reporters?"

"About paying for Earl's medical care?" He shook his head. "I don't know."

She glanced over at him. He was staring out the window, that same distant expression on his face as before. He lied with such confidence, she wondered if he knew how obvious his lies were to her.

When she pulled up to the entrance, he unfastened his seatbelt and exited the vehicle before she had even shifted the car into park. "Thanks for everything, Mrs. Kent," he said through the open door.

She smiled and watched him go, then suddenly called out, "Wait, Lex."

She turned off the car, climbed out, and stepped forward to embrace him once again.

He tensed even more this time than the night before. She closed her eyes, and the image of Lionel's stiff, possessive embrace filled her mind once again. She concentrated on finding that balance between gentleness and strength, letting him know she was there and cared about him through her touch, the way she always reassured Clark. Finally, his muscles relaxed.

When she let go, she kept hold of his arms and looked him deep in the eyes. "Clark is lucky to have you as a friend. You're a good role model for him."

"Thank you, Mrs. Kent." His words sounded sincere, but there was little emotion in his face.

"I mean it. You did a good thing, Lex. I'm so sorry about everything that happened."

He gave her a very slight smile, but his eyes looked away from hers within a few seconds.

She took a deep breath and released his arms. "You're welcome back for dinner anytime. And I expect you to call me if things get bad at home, do you understand me?"

Lex nodded and turned to go.

Martha sighed and returned to her car, watching him walk away.

She'd been right the night before: Lex's body language had been one of an abused child. How had she gone so many years seeing tabloids and articles about the Luthors without noticing it? Lex and Clark had been friends for weeks, and she'd barely looked over at him, but she should have seen the signs.

Even if she had noticed earlier, she couldn't have done anything about it. The Luthors were the most powerful family in the town, maybe in the state. She'd given him the best she could: the offer of a listening ear, open arms, and a place at her table when he needed it.

Martha knew better than to think he would pick up the phone if he needed her. She'd have to keep an eye on him, read between the lines when Clark told her stories, and she would have to be the one to pick up the phone. And she wouldn't fail.


	5. Christmas Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in the hiatus between 1x8, Jitters, and 1x9, Rogue.

Chapter 5 - Christmas cookies

Clark and Martha stood out in the freezing cold outside of the mansion, waiting for the security guard to check in with Lex to make sure they were clear to enter. Clark had unconditional clearance, but the guard hadn't been sure about Martha, since she had never visited the mansion.

Clark made a face, looking up at the top of the gate. "Mom, are you sure he even celebrates Christmas?"

Martha switched her grip on the tin of cookies from one hand to the other so that she could tuck the one that had been exposed to the air into her pocket to thaw it out. There were probably better ways to spend the afternoon on Christmas Eve than waiting out in the freezing cold for someone who, admittedly, might not celebrate Christmas after all.

But it had been three weeks since the hostage situation at the LuthorCorp plant, and Martha hadn't checked in on Lex since then. She'd worried about him, but didn't want to smother or embarrass him by calling to ask about the concussion later that week. Clark had visited him, but she couldn't quite trust a fourteen-year-old's observations about whether Lex was doing alright. Bringing him cookies on Christmas Eve felt like a good excuse to see if he was feeling any better.

"No, I'm not sure," she said. "But even if he doesn't, I doubt he'll be offended by our visit."

The security guard came back and opened the front gate, gesturing for them to come inside. "Mr. Luthor sends his apologies," he said.

"Oh, there's no need for that." Martha smiled brightly. "Clark and I were perfectly happy to wait."

Clark sighed, and she shot him a look.

Lex sat at the desk in his study, looking over some data from his analysts. Proving his father wrong about his ability to manage the plant had turned out to be far more impossibly exhausting than he had thought. At first it had just been an issue of pride, but there was a lot more at stake now. 2500 families relied on the jobs his plant provided.

His security guard entered the room. "Mr. Luthor, Clark is here to see you, along with a Martha Kent. They're at the front gate."

Lex closed his laptop. "Let them in. Send my apologies, and consider Mrs. Kent to be cleared to enter."

"Yes, sir." The guard left the study.

Lex stood from the desk and walked around to the front, tucking his hands into his pockets. He'd visited with Clark once or twice since Clark's grounding had ended, shooting hoops outside the barn or pool inside his study, but he hadn't seen Mrs. Kent since the night he'd slept at their house.

Despite having had to wake up every two hours throughout that night, and sleeping on the cheapest mattress and sheets he'd had in his life, it had probably been the best night's sleep he'd had in years. Not that he would ever admit that to her, of course. Even in his own mind, it was easier to blame the depth of his sleep on the head injury than to admit how much comfort he'd taken in their care.

He had never realized how weak and vulnerable he really was until that night, and even now, the deep humiliation filled his veins with adrenaline every time he thought about how pathetic he must have seemed to them. Those last words she'd said to him—that he was a good man, and a good role model to Clark—had put him on an emotional high that lasted for days afterwards. The thought that his feelings could be so easily swayed by something so small was mortifying, not to mention potentially devastating. His father was always warning him against that kind of sentimentality; it could destroy a person.

His heart pounded slow and hard against his chest. He didn't want to face her again, not when she had seen him like that. At the same time, no matter how many times he tried to settle himself down, his throat felt choked up with euphoria at the thought that she and Clark had come to see him on Christmas Eve.

"Still working?" Clark was a couple of steps ahead of his mom. Both entered into the study with wide grins, wearing knitted red and green sweaters.

"Still work to be done," Lex stepped forward to meet them. It felt like something out of a movie, but Lex didn't care. He couldn't keep the smile off his face.

He clapped Clark's hand in a handshake, and Mrs. Kent embraced him: that warm, gentle, firm hold that brought him back to being in his own mother's arms, softening his insides. His conscious mind lamented how short it was, leaving him embarrassed enough that it was hard to meet her gaze, so he focused on Clark instead.

"Sorry I haven't been in touch much lately, this is a busy time for the plant."

"I imagine most of your employees are away on vacation by now," Mrs. Kent said.

"They are. But year-end analytics have me tied down."

"Sounds boring," Clark said.

Mrs. Kent raised her eyebrows at him. "Clark—"

"No, it is boring." Lex half smiled. "But it's a necessary evil."

"Well, we won't keep you long. We were just here to bring you some Christmas cookies and wish you a good one. We weren't sure if you celebrated Christmas, though."

"Oh, I do."

Clark's eyes wandered around the study, and Lex was suddenly aware of the lack of decorations. He didn't even have a tree. Come to think of it, he wasn't doing anything for Christmas. He wouldn't be attending any parties or gatherings. Tomorrow, he might sleep in if he could afford the time away from work, but he'd probably spend the evening avoiding his father, like he'd done every year around this time. It wasn't much of a celebration.

"Well . . . no, I guess I don't, not really."

"I know you and your father aren't on the best terms, but maybe you could meet up with your friends?"

Lex didn't want to tell her that he didn't have anyone besides Clark, not real friends anyway, but he could see from the look on her face that his expression betrayed the truth. He quickly said, "I'm sure they're busy with their families. It's okay, I haven't done Christmas in a long time."

"Would you like to?" Mrs. Kent asked. "There's plenty of room at our table if you'd like to come over tomorrow night."

Lex's heart leapt. He remembered that first Christmas after his mother died, when his father didn't bother with having the servants pull out the decorations, or with getting a tree. Lex couldn't bring himself to ask about it then; grief for Julian and his mother were too fresh to think about celebrating.

But then the next year was the same. No decorations, no tree. No lights. No music. No parties. Lex could have done without the parties, anyway, but he missed having a Christmas tree. He'd made the mistake of asking his father about it a few days before Christmas, and ended up spending the rest of his week in his room to hide the bruise on his face from his father's vicious backhand.

There had been no talk of Christmas since then. Mrs. Kent was offering him a chance to have it back: a family dinner with a family that actually cared about each other. Two of the three of them even cared about _him_.

Glancing over to see the grimace on Clark's face, though, he knew he couldn't accept her invitation. He could almost see Clark's thoughts written in his expression: what would Mr. Kent say about it? It was one thing to have Lex over for dinner when he was injured from having saved Clark's life; it was quite another to allow a Luthor into the Kent house for Christmas.

"I appreciate the invite, Mrs. Kent, but I can't. I'll be stuck in meetings tomorrow evening."

Her brow furrowed, and she nodded.

He could have kicked himself. _Meetings_ on Christmas. Could he have possibly chosen a less believable excuse?

Mrs. Kent sighed, and she turned to Clark. "We should get going, Clark. Can you run out and start warming up the car? I'll catch up with you in a minute."

He did, and Lex swallowed hard against the dryness in his throat, wanting to look anywhere but at Mrs. Kent's disappointed eyes but finding himself unable to tear his gaze away.

"I understand if you don't want to celebrate Christmas, or if it's hard to think about celebrating it with someone else's family, or if you have somewhere to be," she said softly. "I just wish you wouldn't lie to me."

She couldn't have spoken more cutting words. Buried deep within his computer files was the information Roger Nixon had sent him from his investigations on the Kent family. He hadn't technically lied to any of them, but going behind their backs was obviously deceptive, and the omission was clearly less than honest.

He knew he should call Roger Nixon and call off the investigation. But something inside him wouldn't let him. He was certain he'd hit Clark on that bridge, which meant really, they were the ones who were being dishonest with him . . .

Lex chided himself. How could he be thinking this way about the Kents? They'd been kind to him, taken care of him when he was injured and visited him on Christmas Eve, and this was what he was doing. Lying, manipulating, deceiving, and then pushing it off on them.

Yet he couldn't stop himself.

He didn't deserve them. Any of them. He could still be friends with Clark—Clark was just a kid, and he helped Lex hold himself to a higher moral standard on most things—but Mr. Kent would always be able to see through him, to the person he really was.

To his horror, his eyes began to sting. He blinked rapidly and looked down at his desk.

Mrs. Kent set down the tin on his desk and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll prepare a little extra for dinner tomorrow just in case. You call me if you change your mind," she said.

Lex nodded. "I will." And it wasn't a lie: he would, if he did change his mind.

But his mind was made up.


	6. Checking in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after 1x10, Shimmer, in which the son of a family of servants that work at the Luthor mansion finds a way to turn invisible and attack Lex for not falling in love with his teenage sister.

"You shouldn't do that, you know."

Clark jumped up from the telescope, which was aimed obviously at Lana Lang's house. "How long have you been here?"

Martha smiled, shaking her head. She should have known better than to let Clark keep his telescope in the loft. Every time Martha stopped by here, the telescope was pointed downwards instead of upwards. "Long enough. Your dad tells me you were a hero again today."

"He said that?"

 _Not in those words_. "You saved Lex's life again."

He looked down. "I got there a little late. He was in rough shape."

She sat down on a chair, and he sat across from her. "What happened?"

"You know the Palmers?"

Martha frowned. "They work at the Luthor mansion, right?"

"They used to. Their daughter Amy started stealing from Lex, and then their son Jeff used some kind of rose that was growing in meteor rock to become invisible, and he attacked Lex with a sword. Lex got knocked out before I arrived, then I pushed Jeff into a bunch of paint so he wasn't invisible anymore."

As often happened, Clark's explanation left something to be desired in terms of clarity. But Martha could understand the important details. "Why was Jeff attacking Lex?"

"I guess Amy was in love with Lex, and he rejected her, so Jeff was taking revenge."

"Isn't Amy your age?"

Clark made a face. "Yeah, she is."

Martha nodded slowly. It would have fazed her more, if not for how many strange things had happened in Smallville over the past few months. "Are you okay, Clark?"

He shrugged and gestured to himself. "I'm fine."

"Did you check on Lex after it was over?"

"Yeah. I asked if his head was okay, and he said it was."

In her mind, that didn't hold much water. From what little she had seen, Lex had a strong tendency to lie through his teeth and claim he was fine when he was far from it, especially if he wasn't pressed to be honest. But there was no point in worrying Clark. "Well, I'm glad to hear everything is okay. That sounds like quite an ordeal, though. I wish we'd had him over tonight."

"I thought about inviting him, but I hadn't asked permission."

"You'd just saved his life, Clark. God forbid, if you ever have to step in and save one of your friends from a near death experience, you're not just allowed to invite them over. You need to."

"Okay."

"Same goes if any of your friends ever saves your life. Understood?" It was weird that she was even having to say it, but it seemed to happen a lot. She was speaking generally, but she especially wanted him to remember it for Lex. Clark's other friends had better families to act as support systems after traumatic events.

"I will, Mom."

She reached out and stroked his hair. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

Clark nodded, shrugging away her hand. He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing over at the telescope.

"What's wrong, Clark?"

"I gave up on a chance with Lana," he said.

Martha had heard this story from him earlier today, about how Whitney's father was sick and Clark nearly took advantage of the situation to be with her. But Martha knew it was comforting for him to be able to talk about it, so she let him, although he had little to say about Lana or his feelings that he hadn't said a hundred times before, over the past few years.

When his stories had trailed off and the silences between sentences had grown to several seconds, Martha stood to embrace Clark for a long moment. She rubbed his back gently with one hand and cradled his head with the other, waiting for his muscles to relax and only letting go when they did. Then she walked with him back into the house, where he sat down on the couch with Jonathan to watch TV.

She checked the time on the kitchen clock. 9:05. Lex would still be awake. She was worried about him—Clark had said he'd been knocked out, and it had been less than two months since his last concussion. Aside from the physical damage, having had a servant make an attempt on his life would be more than a little emotionally traumatic for him.

She picked up the phone and slipped into the kitchen, where she hoped her conversation would be out of Jonathan's earshot. She wouldn't keep it a secret from her husband, but if they discussed it before she made the call, their argument might take them longer than she wanted to wait.

* * *

Lex stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, hands braced against the counter.

Thankfully, he bore no clear marks from Jeff's torture. His lip was a little swollen where he'd bled after being punched in the mouth, but most of the other hits had been mild, meant to scare him more than hurt him. Or maybe Jeff had meant to hurt him and just couldn't—he was a pretty weak kid.

Lex angled his head to the side and glanced at the back mirror, trying to see the place where his head had hit the wall. He couldn't see any marks, which he supposed was a good thing, but the intensity of the headache wasn't exactly encouraging. With enough pain medication and a good night's sleep, though, he could probably ignore the pain.

He sighed and hung his head over the bathroom sink. Sleep wouldn't be in the cards for him tonight. Every time he closed his eyes for any longer than a blink, he saw that sword flying toward him again. He didn't want to think about what his nightmares would be.

Just as he was about to step out of the bathroom, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Head spinning with leftover dizziness, he forgot his usual business greeting and just slurred, "Hello?"

"Lex? This is Martha Kent."

He swallowed hard. "Hi, Mrs. Kent."

"I was just calling to check in on you. Clark says you had some trouble at the mansion."

"Oh, no, everything is fine now." Shortly after their last conversation, when he'd turned down her invitation to Christmas dinner, he'd decided that he couldn't face Mrs. Kent again until he stopped investigating their family. He kept remembering the disappointment in her eyes when he'd lied to her the last time she was at the mansion—his muscles physically tensed every time he thought about.

But he still hadn't stopped his investigations.

"How are you? Are you okay?"

And now he was going to lie to her again. "I'm fine."

"Clark said Jeff Palmer tried to kill you."

"I'm not sure about that. I think he was more aiming for scare. Revenge for Amy."

"What happened? His sister tried to make advances on you?"

"Not exactly, but she did steal my watch. And she had a . . . a shrine . . ."

A short silence.

Lex fidgeted with the door handle to the bathroom. "Look, I appreciate your checking in, Mrs. Kent, but everything is okay now. The Palmers have moved out."

"I imagine there was a lot of police activity at the mansion, after the thefts."

"No, I didn't call the police. Amy needed therapy, and her parents didn't know what she was doing. I offered to pay for her medical care."

Why had he even said that? It sounded so pathetic, like he was asking for her praise. Like he was begging her to believe the façade he wore, the sugary icing he put over the poisonous cake that was his entire life. He bit the inside of his cheek, hard enough to hurt.

"That was very kind of you, Lex," Mrs. Kent said.

His face felt hot. "I mean . . . it's not any trouble, it's so little money compared to . . . It's nothing."

"I'm sure it meant a lot to Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, though, and the money isn't the point. Amy stole from you, and you didn't try to seek revenge. You forgave her, and even tried to help her. You were merciful to her family. That shows a great strength of character. You did good, Lex."

 _Tell that to Jeff_. Lex didn't know how to respond, though he felt the familiar thrill rising into his throat at her kind words, accompanied by a much greater embarrassment.

"You're not hurt?" Mrs. Kent asked.

His head pounded, a particularly painful throb. "No, I'm fine."

"Clark told me you were knocked out during the struggle."

"I was, but I'm fine."

"Maybe you feel fine now, but if you were knocked out, you probably have another concussion. I'd feel better if you had someone checking in on you during the night, like Clark did the last time. Can you ask one of the people who work for you?"

"Sure." Another lie. It was one thing to accept his own vulnerability and weakness in the Kent home when he had no choice, and quite another to be treated like an invalid in his own home.

"Good," she said. "I should let you get some rest."

"You too."

A brief pause, and then, "Lex, we'd love to have you over for dinner soon. Are you free tomorrow evening?"

Yes. Yes, yes, please yes. "No, things are going to be a bit hectic around here. I need to hire replacement staff, and Victoria is coming back into town, and the plant is keeping me busy . . ."

A soft sigh. "Call me as soon as things settle down."

 _One last lie_. "I will."

"Good night, Lex."

"Good night, Mrs. Kent."

He listened for the click on her end, then pulled up his contacts, scrolling down to Roger Nixon. He couldn't do this anymore. He was going to call off the investigations.

His finger hovered for a long time over the call button. This was the right thing to do. It would prove he wasn't like his father, that he could make the right choice. He _could_ do this.

No, he couldn't. He couldn't fight his unquenchable desire to know the truth. He exited his contacts, starting to put his phone away.

But he wouldn't be able to face Mrs. Kent. And he couldn't avoid her forever, especially not if he wanted to continue his friendship with Clark. That was worth anything. He opened his phone again and forced himself to make the call.

Two rings, then, "This is Roger."

"Nixon, it's Lex Luthor. I—"

"I know, I know, you want updates, and I know I've been slow to deliver. But I've got something. You're going to want to see this."

Lex's heart skipped a beat. This could be it. The answers he was looking for, the knowledge that would soothe the burning in his mind.

All at the low cost of betraying the only family that had been kind to him in the last nine years.

 _Don't bother_ , he wanted to say.

 _I'm calling this off_ , was on the tip of his tongue.

 _Stay away from Clark and his family_. He could say that, then call Mrs. Kent back and see if her dinner invitation still stood. No harm done, since Lex had never actually learned anything from his investigations.

But what came out was, "First thing tomorrow."

"You got it." Nixon hung up.

Lex shoved his phone back into his pocket and leaned back against the door.

_"This is who you are, Lex."_

He flinched. The voice again—he hadn't heard it in awhile. The words were clear as day, but it wasn't an audible voice. It came from deeper inside of him.

_"You think you can ever belong with those people? You know who you are."_

Lex tapped his throbbing head against the wood. It hurt, and the voice was quiet.

He tapped it four more times.


	7. Invulnerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins partway through 1x12, Leech. Clark has accidentally transferred his powers to his classmate, Eric Summers. When Eric tried to use these powers to hurt someone, Clark tried to stop him, and wound up in the hospital.

Lex watched the animation of Clark getting hit by his car for what must have been the hundredth time.

He wanted to believe it wasn't true. He really did. But the way his car had been peeled open from the top, the evidence from Roger Nixon, and the fact that he'd seen it with his own eyes—seen Clark collapse over the front of the car as it collided with his body at 60 miles per hour—made it impossible.

The fact that Clark had become so angry and defensive when Lex had asked about it was yet another confirmation in Lex's mind. If Clark was telling the truth, he would have been confused by Lex's insinuations, not angry. He might have even teased him. He wouldn't have started yelling and trying to get Lex to hit him with a hammer to test whether or not it would hurt.

Lex didn't know what to believe. Clark had to be lying, but aside from that, Lex didn't have an explanation. He had encountered enough impossible things and strange people over the past few months that it wasn't far beyond the bounds of his imagination that Clark might have some kind of mutation—strength, or invulnerability, or super-adrenaline. Maybe even immortality.

And if Clark was special, what was so bad about that? Why would Clark hide it? Clark and Lex had started referring to each other as best friends, but Clark still wasn't honest with Lex.

Did Clark think Lex would look at him differently for having abilities? Clark had to know that Lex, of all people, would be the last to judge him for something like that. Clark had never judged him for his baldness, or for his family's reputation.

Did Clark think Lex would tell people his secrets, or try to take advantage of him? He would never. Lex would have done anything he could to protect Clark and support him. He would never, _could_ never, betray Clark.

The irony of his thoughts hit him like a speeding car to the gut. He was literally watching footage he'd blackmailed out of an investigative reporter, who he'd sent to spy on Clark's family. Meanwhile, he was thinking about how his loyalty to Clark and how Clark should have trusted him. Lex was a traitor and a hypocrite: _no one_ should have trusted him.

But clearly, he couldn't trust Clark either. From everything he had seen, it was impossible for Clark to get hurt.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from Martha Kent.

Three words: _Clark is hurt_.

* * *

Worrying about Clark's physical safety was new for Martha. She'd run into the hospital to see his ribs bandaged up from his encounter with Eric, then she'd had to physically help him get dressed so he could leave the hospital. All she wanted was to wrap her arms around him tightly and soothe away his pain, but a quick hug from her had caused him to wince at the pressure on his ribs.

They were just leaving the examination room when Lex appeared around the corner in the hallway. "Clark, I just heard," he said.

Martha greeted Lex, then offered to wait for Clark with Jonathan. Based on what she'd seen of how much Lex cared about Clark, she knew he'd want to see for himself that Clark was alright. She didn't need to hover.

Even from down the hall, where she stood with Jonathan and waited for Clark to catch up, she could hear most of their conversation. Lex apologized for something he'd said, and Clark made such snide comments in return that Martha had to suppress the urge to stalk over and scold him. They seemed to make peace, but in the end, when Lex offered to help, Clark simply limped away from him.

She would question Clark about the way he was treating his friend later, when Clark was feeling a little better. For now, she wanted to make sure Lex was okay, since no one else would.

Maybe she shouldn't interfere—whatever was happening was between Lex and Clark. She glanced back at Lex and caught a glimpse of the look on his face, and her maternal instincts kicked in.

"I'll catch up in a minute," Martha said to Clark and Jonathan, and they headed out to the car.

Lex was still staring after Clark by the time she reached him.

"Hi, Lex."

He broke his gaze away from Clark and turned to her. "Is everything alright, Mrs. Kent?"

"I'm sorry, I just . . . I couldn't help but overhear some of your conversation. Clark's under some pressure right now

"He's upset with me. He has every right to be, I haven't been trusting him."

"What do you mean?"

Lex turned his face away from her. "You'll hear about it from him, anyway."

"I want to hear it from you. What's wrong?"

He swallowed and looked her in the eyes. "I haven't been trusting him. I thought . . . well, it doesn't matter what I thought. I accused him of lying to me, and I was wrong."

She blinked in surprise. It was rare to see someone so openly admit to their own wrongs, and it certainly wasn't a trait he'd learned from his father. "What happened, Lex?"

His face turned pink. "You remember how Clark and I met, when my car went over the bridge?"

She nodded. She was afraid she might know where this was going.

"Well, it sounds crazy when I say it out loud, especially now that I know I was wrong about it, but . . ." He shook his head. "I could have sworn I hit Clark with my car. I thought I saw him getting hit. And all evidence from the trajectory of the crash confirms it, according to the investigators."

" _Investigators?_ "

He lowered his head. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Kent. I had no right to sneak around behind his back, or to be deceptive to your family."

"Lex—"

"It's just, Clark has saved my life three times. Every time, it seems like it should have been impossible. I should have died that day on the bridge, and I should have died twice since then. I just want to know why I lived. And I want to know why strange things keep happening in this town. I'm so sorry, Mrs. Kent, I never . . ."

Martha let her breath out. No wonder Clark had been short-tempered with Lex. Clark acted that way whenever anyone was getting close to discovering his secret, and he'd lost a few friends over the years because of it. In those situations, Jonathan tended to tell him he'd done the right thing, that keeping his secret was more important than their friendship.

She agreed that keeping Clark's abilities secret was important, but she couldn't help but feel that Clark could handle himself differently to avoid hurting people. After all, keeping the secret was as much for their protection as it was for his own.

The friends Clark had pushed away over the years had been kids with stable families and other friends to fall back on. Lex didn't have that—losing Clark could be devastating to him. Of course, her first responsibility was to her own family, but she didn't want Lex to suffer either. He didn't deserve to lose Clark's friendship—his _only_ friendship—just because he happened to be curious and better at seeing through Clark's lies than Pete or Chloe.

Hiring investigators to look into the strange events in Smallville was taking his curiosity to a bit of an extreme, but it was clear to Martha that he had never meant to hurt Clark with it. He'd been a good friend to Clark, and if Lex assumed that Clark was being honest about having no secrets to keep, the truth might have had nothing at all to do with Clark—Lex might have discovered a completely different explanation for what happened on the bridge.

He'd just wanted the truth.

In her opinion, he deserved it, and he could probably handle it. Lex could take care of himself in a tough situation, had the resources to protect himself and others, and cared about Clark enough not to betray him. He would have been a perfect confidante if Clark had wanted to share his secret, though she knew better than to suggest it—she didn't want to think about what Jonathan would say if she did.

He shifted his weight, eyes darting around the room. He was clearly wracked with guilt and floundering in her presence. In her mind, though, the guilt he was feeling was far out of proportion to the harm he'd done.

"Lex, I want you to listen to me."

His eyes traveled upwards, though his head still hung.

" _Anyone_ would have been suspicious. _Anyone_ would have wanted to know more about that. You're right—you've gotten incredibly lucky a few times over the past few months, and you have every right to try to figure out why. In the future, I want you to be more honest with us, but I understand how hard that must have been, when you didn't think we were being honest with you."

He squeezed his eyes shut.

She waited until they opened, then said, "Look at me, Lex."

He did, though he winced.

"I'm not angry with you. I'm _not_."

Ever so subtly, she could see him trembling. She was getting through to him, but she needed to make her point before he lost any more dignity than he already had.

"I don't know whether Clark is upset. But even if he is, he won't stay upset for long." She'd talk to him. Regardless of the circumstances, it wasn't good for a fourteen-year-old to be holding grudges.

"It will never—" his voice broke— "happen again, Mrs. Kent."

She sighed. Clark's abilities weren't hers to tell about, and even if it was, he didn't have them anymore. She didn't think Clark would be getting his powers back any time soon. "Clark is an ordinary kid. You saw that today."

"I know. I'm calling off the investigations."

She nodded, but she was still concerned about him. "Can you be honest with me about something?"

He half-smiled. "I think owe you that much."

"Were those investigations really about Clark?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced a couple of steps. "I hoped they'd turn out to be. If there was something different about him, that would mean that somehow, I'd gotten lucky enough to have a superhero for a friend. Of course, if there wasn't . . ."

"Then you'd be the one who was different." She smiled gently. "Well, maybe you are. You've saved his life a couple of times, too, you know."

"Maybe. But those situations have always been easier to explain."

She nodded in understanding. "You weren't trying to invade Clark's privacy. You were trying to understand yourself. The investigations weren't about our family, they were about you."

His jaw pulsed. "It sounds pathetic."

"No, Lex. You wanted to find the truth. Yes, you did it the wrong way, but you learned from that. I imagine Clark let you know his feelings when he first found out."

He nodded, shame etched into his face.

"I'm sure you've more than paid for your mistake in guilt. You apologized, we forgave you, and now we move on and try to be more open with each other in the future."

"You make it sound simple."

"It isn't always. But this was rooted in misunderstanding, which we've cleared up. No one got hurt, and it's over." She squeezed his shoulder. "We miss you, Lex. You should come over for dinner sometime."

He looked down at her hand on his arm, then back at her. "I'll check my calendar."


	8. Cowardice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after 1x13, Kinetic, in which a group of thugs (who can walk through walls because they have Kryptonite tattoos) injure Chloe, rob and blackmail Lex, and try to kill Whitney.

It had been a long week. Lex's house had been broken into and robbed; he'd been punched, strangled, blackmailed, and threatened with death. He'd watched a friend (or at least, the friend of a friend) get injured because of his own carelessness in his security, and then he'd watched Clark almost get killed by the same group of thugs that had hurt Chloe.

He was getting really, really tired of weeks like this.

Thieves that could walk through walls. That was a new one, and yet nothing out of the ordinary, considering all of the other strange abilities he'd seen in Smallville.

He pushed the thought away—he was done investigating these things. Done sneaking behind Clark's back to try to see if Clark was hiding anything extraordinary. Just the week before, Clark had proven he was normal.

Then again, Lex also had no idea how Clark had stopped the thugs tonight and managed to emerge without a scratch.

Lex walked over to Clark after making one last threat to the criminals in the police car. They both watched the cops drive away. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Clark straightened up suddenly and looked up at Lex. "Oh! I just remembered something."

"What's that?"

"This is going to sound really weird, but my mom made me promise something."

"What's that?"

"That if you ever saved my life, or if I ever had to save yours, I'd take you home for dinner with our family."

Lex blinked. "That's . . . really specific, Clark."

"That's what I thought. I figured, what are the chances that's going to happen again? But then it did, and now I'm inviting you over."

Lex raised his eyebrows. "And what if I told you I'm busy?"

" _Are_ you busy?"

The thoughts that ran through Lex's head had nothing to do with his schedule for the evening, and everything to do with whether he could see himself deserving a place at the Kents's table.

He'd claimed to Clark that he cared more about Chloe than about getting his belongings back from the thieves, which was a complete misdirect. It wasn't exactly false, though the flowers he'd sent her might have been more out of guilt than anything. But his reasons for taking the loss rather than contacting the police had nothing to do with prioritizing Chloe's recovery.

Lex was surprised Clark hadn't mentioned that when he found out Lex was being blackmailed, but then, Clark wasn't always the most perceptive. Mrs. Kent would have noticed, and she would have looked at him with those disappointed eyes that pierced straight through his soul. He wasn't sure he wanted her hearing too many details about what had happened.

There was no reason she had to know. But if he didn't tell her, he'd have to listen to her go on about how great of a friend he was, all the while knowing the truth. Maybe he could still visit with them, once Chloe had fully recovered and all of this had died down, but he shouldn't today.

"I should probably get home," Lex said. "I've got an early morning meeting with Lana. She wants to talk about the Talon again, says she has a new proposal." He gave Clark a pointed look. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Clark?"

Clark lowered his head just a little, his smile barely suppressed. "You'll make it to your meeting in the morning. We won't keep you up late. We're farmers, Lex, we get up early."

Lex knew then that he'd blown his chances of getting out of dinner. He'd made an excuse that Clark had easily dismantled, and now any other excuse he made would be an obvious lie.

"Okay," he said finally. "I'll go. Can I give you a ride?"

* * *

Martha was just wrapping up cooking dinner while Jonathan set the table when Clark came in through the front door. "Hi Mom! Hi Dad! I've got company," he called out.

She looked over her shoulder to find Lex following Clark into the house, then set down her spatula to go over and give each of them a hug. Clark hugged her back, and Lex did as well, albeit after a half second of hesitation.

She glanced over at Jonathan, who kept his eyes on the dishes he was putting out. Three place settings. Martha put a hand on his arm, and he sighed and trudged over to the cabinet with the plates.

Martha gave Lex an extra bright smile. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Clark invited me, and I figured it had been awhile . . ."

Clark clapped Lex on the shoulder, but his eyes were on Jonathan. "Mom said I was supposed to invite my friends over if they . . . get me out of a rough place."

Jonathan looked up from his work at that. His eyes darted from Clark, to Lex, then back to the table.

"Let's have a seat, and you can tell us all about it." Martha resisted the urge to glare at her husband. She understood his frustration with Lionel, but he was being completely unreasonable with Lex, week after week. She'd never seen him act this way with anyone else.

Lex hung back a moment while the other three took their seats, and only joined them when Martha beckoned him over.

It was quiet for a moment as Martha served up the food. Finally, she broke the thick, awkward silence. "So what happened today?"

Clark cleared his throat. "Well it started a few days ago, when those guys broke into Lex's house and stole a bunch of stuff and threw Chloe out of the window."

"How is she doing, by the way?" Martha asked.

Clark smiled. "A lot better!"

"She's a fighter," Lex said.

"Yeah." Clark gave him a look. "But those doctors you sent in really helped."

"Doctors?" Jonathan asked.

Clark nodded. "Lex sent in specialists from Metropolis to help with Chloe's recovery."

"Well, that was . . . kind of you." Jonathan seemed to choke over the words.

"It really was." Martha spoke in a much more sincere tone.

Lex swallowed. "It was the least I could do. I felt responsible."

"Why would you feel responsible? It wasn't your fault if someone broke into your house." Martha frowned.

He looked away for a moment before speaking. "It happened on my property. She was under my care."

She bit back a sigh. That was his lying tone. He was holding something back, she was certain of it.

She'd thought they had made some progress the last time they talked, when he confessed to having investigated Clark. She'd had to walk a fine line in her speech, not wanting to tell him his actions weren't wrong (which would be counterproductive and not believable to him), but also not wanting to make him feel any more guilty than he already did. But in the end, she was pretty sure she'd managed to convince him he was forgiven.

But here they were again. Clark had felt guilty about Chloe's injury, too, but he'd been willing to talk about the reasons why he felt bad, which had made it easier to convince him he wasn't at fault. Lex might still be feeling guilty for some nonsensical reason, but whatever that reason was, he was keeping it to himself, which meant Martha couldn't address it.

She glanced over at Jonathan, who was avoiding her gaze, then back to Lex. "What happened tonight?"

"The thieves had found some sensitive LuthorCorp information. They were blackmailing me, and Clark went to try to confront them. He got himself in over his head—"

"And that's when Lex came up behind the guy with a stun gun! It was awesome, Mom."

Martha raised her eyebrows. "Lex, you saved Clark's life again?"

"Yeah, Lex." Clark grinned. "Where does that put us, three to three?"

"Don't worry, Clark," Lex said. "I'll be sure to have another near death experience soon so that you can pull ahead."

"Don't even think about it, young man." Martha reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

"I don't seem to be able to help it lately." Lex half smiled.

Jonathan looked up. "Yeah. It does seem to be happening quite a lot. I've never seen Clark in danger more often than he has been since he's met you, and half the time, it's because he's putting his neck out to save your sorry hide."

Martha's heart pounded. She wanted so badly to help Lex, but Jonathan just kept shoving him down every time she took a tiny step forward.

Clark's breath caught in his throat. "Lex saved _me_ today, Dad."

"And you wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't been getting yourself mixed up in his dealings."

"He was robbed!"

Jonathan's eyes shifted from Clark to Lex. "Is that all there is to the story, Lex? Because it seems like with you Luthors, there's always more."

Lex held eye contact with Jonathan for all of one second before he broke. He shot up from the table, pushed his chair in, and stormed out of the room.

"Coward," Jonathan muttered.

Martha glared at Jonathan and ran after Lex.

He was already halfway to his car when she caught up with him. He turned to face her, but took a couple more steps back. "Look, Mrs. Kent, I really appreciate everything you've done for me—"

"I understand, Lex. I just didn't get to say thank you. You've been a good friend to Clark, and—"

"My life is a mess, Mrs. Kent. Your husband is right—Clark jumped off a bridge to save me the day we first met, and he's had his life threatened over and over again because of me. If I were a good friend, I'd stay away from him."

Now more than ever, she wished he could know Clark's secret. Not knowing was destroying him. "You've been kind to him, and you've looked after his friends. I don't think you'd abandon him, Lex."

"That's because I'm a coward." He shrugged and slid into his car, closing the door behind himself.

That wasn't his lying voice, and he didn't appear to be evading. He really believed that.

She'd seen him do amazing things since she'd known him. The obvious ones—facing down a gunman in a building filled with gas, sneaking up behind a mutant thug armed with only a stun gun. But there was so much more. The way he'd walked, unflinchingly, into his home to face his abusive father who he'd displeased by promising to help someone. The confessions he'd made to her so far, even to Jonathan, despite believing Jonathan hated him. The simple fact that Lex lived in a town full of people who despised him.

She hurried forward and tapped on the window, which he rolled down without looking up at her.

"Lex," she said. "You are the bravest person I know."

He looked up at her then, no relief or trust or flattery in his stony gray eyes. "Thanks, Mrs. Kent," he said mechanically, and drove away.

Martha stared after him long after he was gone. He'd spouted a lot of nonsense, but he was right about one thing—his life was a mess. It wasn't her business or her job to fix it.

But she seemed to be the only one who had noticed what he was suffering through, which meant it wasn't anyone else's job. Besides, since when did Martha Kent care about whether helping someone was her business or not? Twelve years ago, it hadn't been her responsibility to look after that toddler they'd found in the field the day of the meteor shower. And that was the best thing she'd ever done.

No, it didn't matter that this wasn't her job. She was going to find a way to help him. She'd thought she could comfort Lex by welcoming him into her home. Thanks to Jonathan's stubbornness, she had been wrong.

She would have to try a different tactic.


	9. Club Zero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins in the middle of Zero, in which a contractor seeks revenge on Lex for mysterious events that occurred at Club Zero three years ago. I'm using some direct quotes from the show, starting with a conversation which originally ended with Martha encouraging Clark to keep his distance from Lex until things cleared up. Reminder that I don't own anything.

But the weeks that followed only confirmed for Martha how convoluted the Luthor world could really be.

First, there was the severed hand that had been mailed to Lex at the Talon. Clark said he'd never seen Lex look so panicked, and she could hardly blame him.

Then there were the poisoned cows, killed by toxic waste from LuthorCorp. Her heart had broken, though her sadness paled in comparison to Jonathan's. When Lex came over to apologize, she'd wanted to reassure him that she didn't blame him—obviously, there was something going on that was far out of his control, and his voice was honest when he said he didn't know what had happened—but in that moment, she'd needed someone to blame. So when Jonathan had berated Lex and mocked his offers to pay for the damages, she just allowed it. She walked away, and she and Jonathan mourned together.

According to Clark, Lex had disappeared from the field shortly after. That didn't surprise her. She was sure Lex wouldn't have let any harm come to their family intentionally, but if he was at fault for anything that was happening, even indirectly, he'd be wracked with guilt. If he wasn't at fault at all, and he really was just being set up, Jonathan's words would have shredded him even more.

Martha entered the house to find Clark on the phone.

"Alright, well, just tell him that Clark Kent called. Thank you." He hung up.

"Who was that?"

"I'm trying to reach Lex. He's not in the office, he's not at the mansion, and his cell phone goes straight to voicemail."

That was a little more worrisome. Whoever was making these things happen had already used a myriad of creative methods to torment Lex. So far, they'd been targeting people he cared about rather than the man himself, but she didn't like the idea that he was suddenly out of contact.

"Where's Dad?" Clark asked.

"Still supervising the removal of the cows."

"Lex said he'd pay for that."

"I know, sweetie." There was more to it than that—toxic waste meant health threats to the farm and the families surrounding it. But she knew Clark understood how severe the situation was, and he knew it was more complicated than money. He'd just been trying to defend his friend.

"I don't think this is Lex's fault," Clark said. "I think someone is trying to set him up 'cause of what happened at the night club."

"What happened at the night club?"

"I don't know. He didn't want to talk about it."

Her reflex was to be suspicious, but she imagined how Chloe must have been feeling after trying to interview the Kents about Clark's adoption for days and hitting a brick wall, and forced herself to try to view the situation as objectively as she could.

No matter how she looked at it, some things in Lex's past were a little shady. Maybe it was his fault, maybe it wasn't, but whatever the case was, someone who had been involved in his past was trying to make his life hell.

If Clark had been a normal human, she would have worried about him being involved—anyone who remained close to Lex through this was apparently in danger, whether or not that danger came from Lex himself. But unless the person somehow knew about Clark's abilities and weakness—and she had no reason to believe they did—Clark would be safe. Lex wouldn't.

"Clark, when's the last time you spoke to Lex?"

"On the field, right after you and Dad talked to him. He was pretty torn up, so I've been trying to call him."

"You've tried all of his phones?"

"Yeah, I don't know where he is."

She frowned. "I need you to be on the lookout, Clark. Whoever this is, they're going after people Lex cares about. They've already come after our family; they might try to get to you."

"I'll be okay, Mom. You know that."

"I know, but be careful."

"You think I should try to find Lex?"

"I think so. I have to admit I'm a little worried."

"Chloe's been doing some research on that night club. I know Lex told us to stay out of it, but I've been worried, too. Maybe I should check in with her first?"

She looked him right in the eyes. "Yes. But run."

It had been three years since that day, the day Lex still had nightmares about.

Taking Amanda to Club Zero to expose her cheating fiance, Jude Royce. Watching her heart shatter as she witnessed the infidelity; following her away to take care of her. Jude chasing him, beating him, stabbing him. Amanda shooting Jude. Lex taking the fall to protect her, then allowing Sam Phelan to sweep the incident under the rug.

He hadn't seen anyone involved at Club Zero in three years. Then, out of nowhere, he was kidnapped and tortured by a contractor, Roy Rothman, who turned out to be Amanda's brother, seeking revenge for Lex ruining her life by "killing" Jude. Roy had backed Lex up against the railing of the loft in the old abandoned warehouse that was once Club Zero, and he'd tried to shoot him.

Clark had arrived at Club Zero just as Lex fell from the railing and conveniently landed on a couch beneath it. Roy had been found unconscious up on the loft a few minutes later. Lex still didn't know how he had survived—he suspected Clark had something to do with it, but he couldn't prove anything. He and Clark had only talked for a couple of minutes, just long enough for Lex to tell Clark what had happened, before they parted ways to get ready for the party at the Talon.

Back at the mansion, Lex limped into the bathroom. His nerves were still on edge from the taser Roy used when he kidnapped Lex. His head still pounded from the hours of hanging upside down in a straightjacket, and he just managed to make it to the toilet before retching his guts out.

He stood slowly, flushed away the vomit, and rinsed out his mouth at the sink. All of his muscles felt weak, begging for him to lay down and sleep away the evening and night and maybe the next morning, but he still had to make it back for the grand opening of the Talon. The event meant so much to Lana, and he didn't want to disappoint her. He'd started to see her as a little sister.

He picked up a bottle of prescription-strength pain killers and a small first-aid kit from the medicine cabinet before stopping by the kitchen, which was empty since he'd sent his staff to help at the Talon. He started a pot of coffee—ironic since he was heading to the grand opening of a coffee shop, but he'd need the caffeine long before he got there—and a couple of ice packs from the freezer.

Leaning against a counter, he downed four of the pain pills with the coffee before trudging his way back up to the bathroom. He stripped away his shirt, and winced at the dark bruises on his ribs and chest where Roy had kicked and punched him, as well as the many cuts from landing on the broken glass from the loft. Mrs. Kent would probably insist on an antiseptic if she were here, but she wasn't, and the cuts stung enough as it was. So he just a put bandages on the deeper cuts and left the other ones alone. He wouldn't be able to shower until after the grand opening; the cuts were too fresh.

He put on a fresh shirt, asked one of his servants to wake him up in an hour, and laid down on his back on his bed over the covers. He pressed the ice packs into his chest and ribs and tried to breathe evenly.

He didn't even realized he'd closed his eyes when the servant was returning to wake him up. As soon as the servant had left the room, he groaned, rolling over. The painkillers and caffeine weren't much help.

Twenty-five minutes later, he was walking into the Talon. Lana had done an amazing job with the decorations, and the place was packed, which would have made him happier if he didn't want so desperately to be alone. He spotted Clark staring at Lana, who looked positively radiant.

Lex could talk to Lana later—she was busy. He went over to Clark first.

"Hey," Lex said.

"Hey." Clark barely looked over at him.

Lex kept his eyes on Clark's, even though Clark was faced away. "Whatever you think of what I did . . . I was only doing it to protect Amanda. My father wouldn't have raised a finger to help her, but I knew he'd do everything to save his only son."

"So you took the fall and everything was covered up. Is that what really happened? Is that the truth?"

Clark's voice was incredulous, and it hit Lex like a punch to the gut: Clark didn't believe him.

He wasn't going to be able to convince Clark. There wouldn't be anything he could say. He could lose Clark's friendship over this, his only friend. And groveling wouldn't help: Clark's standards were too high.

So Lex just said, "The truth is, I'd do anything to protect my friends."

"Hey Clark!" Pete was calling to Clark from across the Talon. Clark gave Lex one last nod and half-smile, and jogged over to join him.

_"Why would he believe you, Lex?"_

That voice in his head again. An icy hand clenched Lex's heart, cold acid dripping into his stomach. For a moment, he felt like he was going to throw up again, but the feeling passed, leaving behind a thick emptiness.

Of course Clark didn't believe him. Neither did Roy; neither would anyone. He wouldn't have believed himself. That night at Club Zero had doomed him. He'd given everything to protect Amanda—what should he have expected but to lose everything? Even Amanda herself.

A soft touch on his arm brought him out of his spiraling. He turned to see Mrs. Kent.

"I heard about what happened," she said.

"Mrs. Kent—"

"I believe you."

His voice caught in his throat. "What?"

"I believe you. About Amanda."

She didn't even know. She had heard the story from a third-party. She was just saying that. Even Clark didn't believe him—why would she?

But what motive could she have to lie to him? Why would she tell him she believed him if she didn't?

Right now, he couldn't afford to be picky. _Someone_ believed him.

He nodded, and his eyes stung. She pulled him into a tight embrace, and he wrapped his arms around her without hesitation.

"Are you hurt?" she whispered.

"I'm fine," he told her.

She let go and held him at arm's length, looking into his eyes. "Are you hurt, Lex?"

He lowered his head. "Yeah."

She pulled him in again and rubbed his back, squeezing tighter.

He didn't care that everyone in the Talon could see him. He didn't care that he'd look weak and vulnerable. He didn't even care that her arm pressed into the bruises on his ribs. He just let himself melt into her arms.


	10. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after 1x15, Nicodemus, in which several people (including Pete, Lana, and Jonathan) are infected with a toxin from a Kryptonite-infused flower. The toxin causes people to act on their innermost desires, i.e. drive recklessly, hit on people indiscriminately, lash out violently when they don't get their way.

The Kents didn't usually all sit down for breakfast with each other, especially on weekdays when Clark would be needing to get to school soon. But they'd gotten home from the hospital late the night before, and Clark and Martha were both so thankful to have Jonathan home, alive and well, that they'd made an exception.

Clark was telling them both the story of what had happened the night before.

" . . . And then Pete started talking about how Lex's dad cheated him out of his factory, and he was pointing the gun at Lex! I didn't think I could reason with him while he was still infected by the flower, so I pretended to agree with him to distract him, then I got the gun away from him using my powers, and I took him to the hospital, and—"

"Wait, wait," Jonathan cut in. "You used your powers in front of Lex and Pete?"

"Well, Pete doesn't remember anything, and Lex didn't see me."

Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "You're _absolutely_ sure?"

"I'm positive."

Martha's brow furrowed. She wasn't sure what to make of that.

Jonathan smiled and clapped Clark's shoulder. "You did good, son." He stood with his plate. "I'm going to get a start on the morning chores."

Martha watched him go, then turned back to Clark. "How did you know Pete would forget everything he saw?"

"I didn't at the time."

"So how did you use your powers without being seen?"

"Oh, I knocked out Lex and Pete first."

"You _what?_ "

His face fell suddenly. "I didn't know what else to do! Pete wasn't going to go to the hospital, and he was going to shoot Lex! And if I didn't knock out Lex, he would have seen me use my powers. So I pushed Lex against the wall, and I slapped Pete in the head with my super speed."

"Clark!"

"I didn't _want_ to, but I didn't have a choice, Mom!"

She took a deep breath. "I know it was a tough situation, but maybe we can talk about some alternate plans for the future so you know what to do when this comes up again. You can't always knock people out when you need to use your powers. It can be dangerous to hit people in the head, especially for you. One of these days, you'll be in a hurry and use too much strength, and someone might not wake up."

"I'm always careful! I can control my strength."

"I know, sweetie, but I'm sure it still hurt quite a bit."

He looked down at his hands.

She reached out and put a gentle hand on his. "Hey. It's just something for us to think about. It seems like the way things are going, you might find yourself in this kind of situation more and more, so we should talk about what you can do." She could tell he understood her point. She didn't feel the need to bring up the fact that this was Lex's third or fourth concussion in the past couple of months, which could have caused permanent damage regardless of Clark's control.

He sighed. "Okay, I'll think about it. Can we talk after school? I want to make sure to catch Pete before class starts."

"Of course." She stood from the table along with him and gave him a long hug. "I'm very proud of you, Clark. You saved Lex's life. Maybe Pete's too, by taking him to the hospital."

"Thanks, Mom."

She kissed him on the cheek and watched him hurry to catch his bus before she herself headed out to the barn, where Jonathan was already at work taking care of the horses.

She didn't want to bring it up, but there were some issues left unresolved from his time under the influence of the toxin. Even though she knew what had been causing Jonathan's behavior, that didn't mean there hadn't been negative consequences for some of the people involved. "You really don't remember anything from the past few days?"

He shook his head, his eyes on his work. "Nothing. But I take it the poison made people behave strangely."

She frowned. "Strange wasn't the first word that came to mind."

"Why?" His brow furrowed. "What did I do?"

"Well, you blew off work, you tried to . . . come on to me, in front of Clark. You got drunk, and you almost ran over Clark with your car."

He stopped what he was doing and came over to face her. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"I'm not upset with you, I understand."

He nodded, though his face was a bit pink. "People who saw me . . . they, uh, they all know what happened, right?"

"Clark forgives you, and he understands. But, um . . you also told Lex that you hated him and his family, and that you'd be happy if they all died."

His eyes fell closed, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm assuming you're going to make me go apologize for that."

"I think it would be the right thing to do."

He turned away from her, taking a step back. "Come on, Martha, I don't even remember doing it."

"Lex probably doesn't remember his father swindling the Ross family out of their creamed corn factory, since he was nine years old at the time. You're upset with him about that, though."

"What is it with you? Why are you so concerned about that _Luthor_ kid?" He said the name like it was a swear word.

"Because he's a _kid_ , Jonathan. He's been a good friend to Clark, he saved _your_ life yesterday by finding the antidote to that poison, and he doesn't have anyone else. Have you noticed how his father treats him?"

Jonathan grunted.

"I want to help him. He's so desperate for anyone's approval, I'm worried we'll see him becoming his father someday. He's had some really traumatic experiences in the past few months, and I've been trying to invite him over to bring some stability and comfort into his life, but every time I do, you just hurt him more."

Jonathan looked away for a long moment.

Martha swallowed. Having this argument was killing her. She was so happy to have her husband back, she just wanted to drop the whole thing, to tell him to forget it. But they'd left this alone for long enough, and when he looked back at her, she could see she was finally starting to get through. She had to keep pushing.

"For someone who hates Lionel Luthor so much," she said softly, "I'd think you'd have more sympathy for someone who had to grow up in a house with him."

Jonathan sighed. A long, loud, heavy sigh. Then he started to walk toward the house. "I'll call him."

Martha followed him. "Go talk in person. _I'll_ call him to let him know you're coming."

"Fine." He picked up the keys and left the house without another word.

* * *

Lex lifted the rack from the pool balls and positioned the cue stick to break. The relatively mindless action of playing pool helped him to deal with stress, and there had been quite a lot of it in the past few days.

Clark and Mrs. Kent had been thankful to him for finding the antidote to that flower's toxin, but he alone knew the truth: that the antidote would never have been needed if it hadn't been for the experiments he was paying Dr. Hamilton to conduct. Finding the cure had been no more than cleaning up his own mess. And he'd been too late, anyway—someone had still died.

His cell phone buzzed, and he glanced at the caller ID.

He picked up the phone. "Hey Clark."

"Actually, it's Martha."

"My apologies, Mrs. Kent."

"That's alright. I'm calling to let you know that Jonathan is on his way over to speak with you, if you're available."

His heart froze. Was it possible Mr. Kent knew about Lex's research? For a moment, he wanted to tell her he wasn't available. But he didn't like lying to her, and there was an urgency in her voice he couldn't deny. Besides, she'd said he was on his way over already. "Okay. Thanks for letting me know."

"How are you, Lex?"

"I'm okay. Things are settling down."

"I'm glad to hear it. You'll call if you need anything?"

"I will." Still probably a partial lie, but she wouldn't have accepted the truth. "Thanks for the heads up, Mrs. Kent."

"Bye, Lex."

He hung up and took a deep breath, embarrassed by how hard his heart pounded against his rib cage. Lex never would have admitted it to Mrs. Kent or Clark, but hearing Mr. Kent's unfiltered opinions of him the other day had hurt like hell. He wasn't exactly up for round two. He knew Mr. Kent had been under the influence of the toxin, and wouldn't remember the conversation, but that didn't help with the pain.

Lex was good at identifying when people were being affected by diseases or other unusual conditions. When Lana had tried to seduce him in the Talon, he'd noticed immediately that she was acting strange. But when Mr. Kent had berated Lex for checking on him to make sure he was okay, Lex hadn't noticed anything was off. Neither had Mrs. Kent, apparently—she hadn't stayed to try to convince Lex that her husband didn't mean his words, or any other nonsense like that. She'd followed Mr. Kent into the next room, and Lex had left the house, chastising himself harshly for being so emotionally affected by the words of someone he already knew hated him.

He couldn't imagine what more Mr. Kent had to say to him now.

His security guard entered the study. "There's a Jonathan Kent waiting outside."

"Send him in." Lex set his cell phone down on the desk, put away his pool cue, and shoved his phone into his pocket.

When Mr. Kent entered the room, Lex didn't make a move to greet him. He just kept his hands in his pockets, waiting, consciously telling his muscles to stop tensing.

"Lex."

"Mr. Kent."

Lex's one comfort was that Mr. Kent looked as awkward and uncomfortable as Lex himself felt. Mr. Kent paced a little and rubbed his face, and his eyes darted around the room. "Ah, Lex . . . my wife tells me that I said some things to you while I was . . . affected."

Lex didn't respond. He didn't know how. So he just kept staring.

"Things I shouldn't have said."

Lex blinked.

"I'm afraid I don't remember any of it. What did I say?"

 _I don't like Lex Luthor. I don't like Lionel Luthor, and I don't like your friendship with my son. In fact, if all of you Luthors were to dry up and die, I wouldn't shed a tear._ The words had repeated in his head over and over, keeping him up most of the night.

"I don't remember the exact words," Lex lied easily.

"Well, whatever it was . . . I guess it was pretty bad, and I'm sorry."

Anger flared in Lex, and for just a second, he lost control. "You told me you'd be happier if I was dead," he spat.

Mr. Kent flinched. "I'm sorry, Lex."

"Is it true?"

There was a short pause while Mr. Kent brought his eyes up to meet Lex's. "No, it's really not." He took a deep breath. "Martha, she . . . she made some good points. And Clark—" he cleared his throat— "Clark obviously looks up to you, and I know you'd never do anything to hurt him."

Lex forced himself to maintain eye contact. He wondered if Clark had told his father about Lex's investigations.

"You're . . . well, it's going to take me some time to get used to all this."

"I understand, Mr. Kent." He did, but the anger still hadn't completely died down. The man's words had soothed some of the pain, but only some.

"I don't wish your family was dead. But even if I did, I shouldn't be speaking to you that way."

Lex wanted to nod, but he couldn't get himself to move.

"Well, I should be heading out." He rubbed the back of his neck and turned to go.

"Mr. Kent."

He turned to face Lex once more.

"Thank you."

Mr. Kent nodded, and walked out of the study.

Lex watched him go, then he returned to his pool table. For the first time in awhile, he felt himself smiling, if only a little.

It was painfully obvious to Lex that Mrs. Kent had put her husband up to this, but it still represented something powerful in Lex's mind. For one thing, she cared enough about Lex to make her husband go to apologize. For another, while Mr. Kent's opinion of Lex was still startlingly low, it was quite not as harsh, nor as unchangeable, as Lex had believed.

Finally—and most importantly—that apology had been real. All of Lex's usual self-protective skepticism couldn't quite stop him from believing that.

 _"Yeah, he's telling the truth,"_ that voice in his head chimed in. _"He doesn't care enough about you to lie."_


	11. Hidden Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins in the middle of episode 1x16, Stray, right after Lionel offers Lex a position at LuthorCorp (since up to this point, Lex has been "exiled" to the plant in Smallville). The Kents are also temporarily looking after Ryan, an abused 11-year-old who has been affected by Kryptonite such that he can read minds.

Lex kept his facial expression blank until his father left the study, but as soon as he left, he let his breath out and dropped into the chair behind his desk. He could feel cold points of sweat beading on his head.

His father wanted him to come back to Metropolis. To come home, to work together. For Lex to be his father's advisor. He had even told Lex that his work was _adequate_.

Though Lex had tried hard not to show it, his heart rate had doubled at the compliment. He hated that such small words could affect him so much. He wanted to blame his vulnerability on the Kents, to claim that they had softened him.

But it wasn't true. If anything, his father's words would have hit him harder if he hadn't been listening to Mrs. Kent so much. Mrs. Kent was always telling him he was a "good" man, a "good" role model, a "good" friend.

The word "adequate" shouldn't have been enough, after hearing "good" so many times from Mrs Kent, but somehow, coming from his father, it meant more than the word "good" might have. "Good" was a trap; "adequate" was a business evaluation. "Good," his father would never say and mean; "adequate," that was the truth.

_"You really believe that?"_

The voice again. Lex clenched his teeth and pulled himself up from the desk, heading over for his pool table.

This time, though, that wasn't enough to quiet it.

_"You've fallen into this trap before, Lex."_

Lex's hands shook as he collected the pool balls from their pockets and arranged them in the center of the table

 _"You're so desperate. So pathetic. Do you think—"_ it almost laughed. _"Do you think he LOVES you?"_

He brought the pool cue down on the table with a loud _CRACK!_ "Well, what do you think I should do?" he shouted.

He stepped back, knees shaking violently, and braced his hands against the edge of the table. He was speaking to the voice. Speaking aloud. That was a first for him.

 _"Go to Metropolis,"_ the voice said finally. _"It's where you belong. You don't deserve to be here, with the Kents."_

" _No!_ I don't want to go back!"

The voice was silent.

Lex breathed as hard as he would have if he'd just run a marathon. "I don't want to go back," he whispered.

* * *

Martha waited with Ryan for his aunt to come pick him up. Her heart throbbed with pain at the anticipation of bidding him good bye, and she knew Clark must be feeling the same way, but it wouldn't do Ryan any good for her to break down in front of him. She sliced up apples for another pie—she'd made the excuse that it was because Ryan and Clark went through the first one the night before, but really, she just wanted to keep her hands busy.

A light knock on the door. Martha put down her knife and headed over to the door, swallowing hard—Ryan's aunt wasn't supposed to be coming by until later in the day. The last time she'd released Ryan to someone earlier than planned, he'd ended up being kidnapped.

But it wasn't Ryan's aunt, or anyone coming to collect Ryan at all. Lex stood outside the door.

Martha let her breath out, thankful for the extra time with Ryan and also for the distraction. "Hi, Lex. Clark is out doing some morning chores with his father."

"That's okay, Mrs. Kent. I actually came to talk to you."

"Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, I just needed some advice."

She nodded, glancing over her shoulder at Ryan, who was nibbling on an apple she hadn't sliced. "Well, Ryan's here, waiting to be picked up. If you want to talk privately, you might want to come back later this afternoon."

"Oh, it's no secret. I just need to make a decision on something. I can come back later if you would prefer, though."

"No, come on in." Martha held out a hand to usher him inside, and returned to the kitchen counter.

Lex sat down beside Ryan. "Hey, Ryan."

Ryan just stared at him. Martha made a mental note to ask him about it later. "How are you, Lex? Clark said you were thrown out of a moving vehicle last night."

"Oh. Yeah, but I'm fine, that's not why I'm not here."

"Is this about your father's job offer?" she asked.

He smirked. "I take it Clark told you."

She nodded. She'd had half a mind to call Lex as soon as she heard, but figured her unsolicited advice might do more harm than good. At the same time, the thought of Lex voluntarily returning to work for his abusive father made her stomach clench. "You're trying to decide whether to go."

"I was supposed to give my father an answer last night."

She looked him deep in the eyes, and waited until he looked back into hers. "Are you happy in Smallville, Lex?"

He immediately looked away.

She sighed. She had no idea what that meant. Of course, Ryan could simply read his thoughts—she wished she could just ask Ryan when Lex left, but she knew that that would probably be an enormous invasion of privacy. "Okay, well, would you be happy in Metropolis?"

"I don't know how to answer those kinds of questions, Mrs. Kent, and I'm not sure it's relevant to my father."

"Well, it is to me."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I've wanted to go back ever since I got here."

"Do you still want to?"

"I don't know. I guess that's why I came . . ." He winced. "I'm sorry, I'm wasting your time—"

"I can't tell you what to do with your life, Lex. But our family has friends who work at your plant, and they say good things about it. They respect you a lot, especially Gabe Sullivan—he still talks about how you saved his life and Chloe's, that day when the plant was taken hostage."

"It's—I wasn't—"

"Lex, I'm just saying you've done a lot of good here. I'm sure you could go on to do a lot of good in Metropolis, too." That was all she could give him. She wanted so badly to beg him to stay, to protect himself, but that wasn't who he was. He spent so much of his time working to protect other people; at the end of the day, he would probably go wherever he felt he could do that best, even to his own detriment.

His eyes met hers, just for a moment, then he took his cell phone out of his pocket and stood from his seat. "My father is expecting my answer. I have to go meet him."

She stepped around the counter to walk him toward the door. "I know you'll make the right choice for you, sweetheart." She placed a gentle hand on his back.

He stiffened.

She pulled her hand back and chided herself. She should have known by now that physical contact made him uncomfortable, and she should only be using it in cases where his distress was extreme enough that the comfort would be greater than his uneasiness. "I'm so sorry, Lex."

"No, no, it's okay!"

She smiled a little. His too-quick reply had told her everything she needed to know. His cheeks turned pink, but when she replaced her hand on his back, a hint of a smile played with the corners of his lips, and didn't fade as he walked out to his car.

Martha returned to slicing apples at the kitchen counter. Now it was Ryan who looked uneasy.

"Is everything okay?"

"Mrs. Kent, you have to be careful of him. There's a lot of darkness he hides."

"What do you mean?"

"There's . . . something inside him."

She raised her eyebrows. "Something you saw in his thoughts?"

"Yeah. Most people have . . . I think it's called an internal monologue? Not everyone, but most people. That's what I hear when I read people's thoughts."

"Yes, I know. What did you hear?" She still felt uncertain about knowing Lex's personal thoughts, but it felt less like an invasion of privacy if Ryan was volunteering the information out of concern for Lex or Martha.

"Lex has two."

"He has _two?_ Two internal monologues?"

"Yeah."

"How does that work?"

"Kind of like multiple personality disorder, except I met someone with MPD once. She had two voices, but I could only hear one of them at a time. Lex has two at the same time."

"How can you tell? Do the voices sound different?"

"Not exactly. They talk over each other, but not like they're arguing. More like they can't hear each other, and they're fighting for control over him. I don't know if Lex can hear both of them. I don't know which one he's listening to." There was a haunted look in the boy's eyes.

Martha nodded slowly and waited for him to finish. Given what little she knew about Lex's background, and even just the trauma he'd been through in the past couple of months, she might have expected that a mind reader would encounter something unusual, peering into Lex's brain.

Ryan swallowed hard. "One of them is good, and one of them is . . ."

"Evil?"

" _Really_ evil. Not like my step-parents, they were just selfish and didn't care who got in their way. This is something else."

"Something darker."

"Yeah. But I think he's keeping that side hidden. It's . . . fuzzy, like he's not completely conscious of it."

All along, she'd been right to watch out for him. Lex had made it clear, despite trying to hide it, that the Kents were his only lifeline. Clark was a good friend to Lex, but he might not have remained that way if she'd allowed Jonathan to sway his thinking. And considering the wealth and intelligence at Lex's disposal . . . if Ryan was right about that inner darkness, she shuddered to think what Lex might become someday if no one bothered to make the effort to take care of him.

"That dark side," she said finally. "Is he fighting it?"

Ryan grimaced. "I think so. I hope so."

She smiled sadly, returning to her apple slices. "Well, we'll have to make sure he's not fighting alone."


	12. Storm Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins near the start of 1x21, Tempest, right after Lionel gives a speech to Lex's employees at the plant informing them that the plant was being shut down due to management issues (effectively firing 2500 people and blaming it on Lex).

Lex paced around his office, unable to settle the trembling in his limbs even enough to pick up his pool cue and try to settle himself down with the familiar, mindless motions. After watching his father's helicopter fly him away to safety, Lex had been surrounded by angry employees, faces he barely recognized—there were just so many of them.

He only just made it back to the mansion safely with the help of his security guards. He'd disconnected his home phone and turned off his cell phone, told his security team to accept no visitors, and turned off his computer. His email and voicemail inbox were quickly filling up with accusations and questions and even the odd backhanded encouragement. He'd have to deal with them eventually, but he was putting it off as long as he could.

When his father had said he was coming to give a talk to his employees, he had never expected this. It had been a tough year—they deserved commendation, not to lose their jobs.

_"That old trap again, Lex? Should have gone back to Metropolis."_

"Shut up," Lex growled, and to his surprise, the voice did. But the pain didn't. He'd never thought deeply about how his plant was the lifeblood of the town's economy, never felt the weight of that responsibility until now.

2500 people, supporting nearly 10,000 if you counted their family members. The town population was 45,000. Their commerce would be destroyed by the closing of the plant. His employees would scramble to find new jobs, and everyone else would struggle to pick up the pieces. The smart ones would leave town, hopefully quickly enough to suffer no ill effects of the temporary poverty. The ones who stayed behind would flounder and dry up in time, probably losing their homes.

Lex wanted to believe it wasn't his fault, but it was entirely his fault. His life was chess match after chess match—he won most of them with little sweat, but the match against his father never seemed to end, and people got hurt. Lex's people—his "pawns"—paid the price. No matter how he tried to protect them, there were always casualties when it came to his father. Lex couldn't afford to lose. His people couldn't afford for him to lose.

But he had lost.

The battle wasn't over, of course. He would never stop fighting. The safest next step would be to try to buy the plant outright and live off the profits of a tiny new corporation that would be only his, but he didn't know if he had enough money. If he didn't, he would need to garner the support of his employees to fund the buyout. After today, he wasn't sure he had it.

He could try to fight his father directly. No amount of appeal to sentiment would gain him any ground, but there were other ways to negotiate. Dirtier ways. Lex had become a master of blackmail over the past few years. His father could usually still outsmart him, but if Lex found something concrete, there might be a chance. Of course, the cost might be even greater than it was worth.

Once, a couple of years ago, Lex had won a fight over some business contract after his father became drunk and beat Lex with a epee until most of his body was bruised and bleeding. Hours later, while Lex was still fluttering into and out of consciousness, his father had ceded the contract. At the time, the contract had seemed small in comparison to the excruciating agony. Today, he would have gladly taken ten beatings if he thought it would stop the plant from closing.

_"It's not worth it. The people in this town don't even like you."_

"I know."

_"Most of them hate you. They blame you for this."_

"They're right to."

_"You don't have to care about them. They're not your responsibility. You never belonged here."_

" _I KNOW!_ " Lex whirled around as he said it, and caught a glimpse of a security guard, who was standing in the doorway.

The security guard kept a perfectly straight face. "Is everything alright, sir?"

Lex took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. "Everything—" His voice broke. "Everything's fine."

"I know you said no visitors, but Martha Kent is at the gate, and you'd given her unconditional clearance. I said I would check in with you."

He turned away and walked back to his desk, bracing his hands against it. He didn't want to face her like this, but maybe the voice would leave him alone for as long as she was with him.

"Mr. Luthor?"

"Send her in," he said.

* * *

Martha hurried through the halls of the mansion as soon as the security guard gave her clearance. She'd recognized the despair on Lex's face in the picture on the front page of the newspaper that morning. He'd been as shocked to hear the plant was closing as everyone else was, which meant it had been done without his consent or knowledge.

Of course, no one else would be paying attention to Lex's facial expression in the newspaper. The first thing Jonathan had done when he saw the article was to express his disbelief that Lex had run the plant into the ground in less than a year. Martha knew most people would be thinking the same thing. She didn't waste her breath to remind him that Lex had only been an adult for three years, and that the task of revitalizing the dying factory would have been impossible for most people with ten times his years of experience.

Jonathan continued to grumble, and she hadn't argued. Instead, she had come straight here.

Lex stood against the front of his desk, waiting for her. He gave her a very slight smile when he saw her, but his eyes were broken, and so was his smile.

She'd never seen him looking so torn apart, not since she'd been taking the time to pay attention to him. It was all she could do not to rush over and envelop him in her arms right away.

"I'm guessing you've heard," he said.

She stopped a few feet away from the desk. "Are you okay, Lex?"

"It's been a long morning."

That was a step for him—not lying when she asked if he was okay. She nodded and stepped forward to stand beside him. She turned and leaned back slightly on his desk as well, and placed a gentle hand on his.

He pulled his hands away, putting them in his pockets.

She bit back a sigh. "What happened today?"

"The news reports have been playing back my father's speech, I'm sure you've heard it."

"I want to hear from you."

His jaw pulsed as he looked away. "My father shut down the plant because I wouldn't go work with him in Metropolis."

"Did he tell you that?"

"You know it's true."

She did, but it was worth knowing whether Lionel had said it out loud. She should have realized the Luthors wouldn't be so direct with each other.

Lex blinked a couple of times. "You know, most families fight, and the neighbors might have to hear the yelling. My family fights, and 2500 families lose their livelihoods." He shook his head. "I should have known. I should have . . . "

"Should have what, Lex?"

"I should have gone back to Metropolis."

"This plant would have died without your leadership anyway."

He just kept shaking his head.

"Hey. I've seen how hard you've been working. When you came here, no one thought this plant would be turning a profit, and here you are. You made that happen. You, Lex."

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because I lost this fight. I was the only one that could have protected those people from my father, and I failed. People depended on it. They depended on me."

She swallowed hard—it sounded so melodramatic, yet she couldn't exactly tell him it was false, in the face of what had happened today. She didn't believe it was his fault, but she would never be able to convince him. "Can you buy the plant? You could hire your employees back."

"I'll run the numbers. I don't know. I'm probably going to need a lot of support, and after this—"

"There are people who trust you. You've done so much good for our community, if you talk to them . . ."

He blinked, and his eyes shimmered, darting around the room. "I, um . . . I don't know."

She reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. "You can do this."

He glanced around himself, as if to confirm there was no one watching, then turned back to her. "I'm scared."

"Come here," she whispered, opening her arms, and he hesitated only a brief moment before stepping into them.

He didn't need her to give him a pep talk; he needed to feel heard, to be comforted. He didn't need another business advisor, not this time—what he needed was a _mom_.

She rubbed his back in slow circles, holding him with a softer grip, then more firmly. She waited for his muscles to unclench, but it didn't happen.

"Deep breaths, sweetie," she whispered in his ear. "Everyone is going to be okay."

If anything, his breaths grew a little faster. He kept his arms around her, but his muscles grew more tense than before.

She took a deep breath herself, continuing to rub his back. Even on his most stressed days, Martha could usually get Clark to relax for a moment by putting a hand on the back of his head and combing her fingers through his hair. She wasn't sure about Lex—reading between the lines in the stories Clark had told her, she knew his baldness was a point of acute sensitivity for him. She didn't know how he would react to the touch, but she also had no idea what to do for him.

Maternal instinct took over. She reached up and cradled the back of his head.

He gasped just a little at the new contact, but she held her palm against the smooth skin until he let his breath out almost silently. He slowly rested his cheek against her hair, and she gently stroked his skin the same way she would Clark's hair, working her way down to the back of his neck and then back up. His arms and back relaxed until he was almost dead weight in her arms.

She only let go when he did, and even then, she kept a hand on his arm.

"You have a good heart, Lex," she said. "And you're brilliant. You'll work this out, one way or another."

"Thank you, Mrs. Kent." His eyes weren't shiny anymore, but his voice was thick, and he cleared his throat.

"There's a storm warning for later today. You should come back to the farm, we have good shelters in place."

He grimaced. "I can't let this sit for any longer, I need to get back to work. Thanks for coming by, though."

She considered insisting. He was clearly in no state to be working on something so vital. But he was right—it was time-sensitive. "Promise me something, Lex."

He raised his eyebrows.

"If you need me, _you call me_."

He nodded. "I will."


	13. Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct quotes from 1x21, Tempest, and 2x1, Vortex. I do not own.

"I'll bury you and everyone in Smallville who takes your side!"

That was the last thing Lex's father said before the storm outside shattered the window and wrenched Lex away from his father's vice grip. Lex didn't see much of what happened next, until he was beneath a pile of collapsed furniture. His head throbbed, and warm, salty blood flowed from his forehead and into his right eye. He struggled his way out of the debris, blinking away the blood, and that's when he saw him.

His father, pinned beneath a fallen column, a sharp section of broken ceiling posed to stab through him.

"Lex! Help me, Lex!"

The pain in Lex's forehead died immediately. He felt nothing but immobility, and in that moment, he could only stand and stare.

Then the voice spoke:

_"Let him die."_

Even frozen as he was, the suggestion startled him. He could never do that . . . could he?

It would be easier. God knew, it would be easier. He could save 2500 families from losing their income, and secure them for the future. He could put an end to the dangerous and immoral experiments his father was carrying out, and take over LuthorCorp. He could lead with strength and justice. He'd make his mother proud. He'd make the _Kents_ proud.

_"No one will know."_

No one would even suspect. Even if anyone knew, how could they blame him? Hadn't his father just promised to destroy him and everyone he cared about? Wouldn't saving him be the greater evil? One life ended, and he could save so many. He wouldn't even have to kill.

_"You'd be free."_

Free from the abuse. From the berating. From . . .

No.

He'd never be free if he let his father die. No one would know, but _he_ would know, and it would destroy him. It was already destroying him.

He couldn't stand by. He took the fateful step toward his father.

_"No! You can't save him now! He's already seen you hesitate! He'll kill you!"_

But Lex was already lifting the column and pulling his father out and away from danger.

Another gust shook the house, and another shower of debris rained down on them.

* * *

A year of knowing that Clark spent most of his time risking his life for his friends had prepared Martha to remain stoic in this moment. The moment in the aftermath of the storm, when the rescue teams told her that Jonathan hadn't been found.

Despite the terror of losing him, and the jagged spikes of pain slicing through her, she buried herself in work, helping the living. She knew it would appear as strength to those around her, but of course, nothing could be further from the truth. It was merely her only way to cope.

News flooded in throughout the day. Dead bodies were found, none of them Jonathan. Live victims were rescued from inside garages and under debris, none of them Jonathan. Lionel Luthor had been hospitalized, and if she'd heard correctly, Lex was mildly injured as well—she would check in on him when things settled down. She spoke to tens, hundreds of people over the phone lines, speaking words of comfort in the midst of chaos.

Clark blamed himself for his father endangering himself, and Martha did the best she could to console him. Even Lana Lang confided in Martha, since the disaster brought both of them flashbacks of the meteor shower thirteen years ago.

The panic and turmoil didn't break Martha, not then and not now. They only brought out her deepest maternal instincts. On that day, thirteen years ago, she'd found Clark.

Even if fear had been enough to paralyze her, it wouldn't have done so today. She knew Jonathan was alive—she couldn't help but believe it with her whole being. Instead of worrying about whether he was alive, she focused on the serious talk she'd be having with him later about where keeping Clark's secret fell in terms of their family's priorities. It had been their primary concern for so long, and for good reason, but it wasn't worth any of their lives. For that matter, it wasn't worth anyone's life. The last thing she wanted was for Clark to think, someday, that he should put himself or anyone else in danger for the sake of keeping his secret.

* * *

Immediately after regaining consciousness at the hospital, Lex's father called Lex out on his hesitation to save him. The crippling guilt at his father's words was only the start of the reckoning.

Before the storm, Nixon had gone after the Kents. Lex's ever-growing threats to stay away from them had apparently had no effect. Nixon and Mr. Kent had fought during the storm, and they'd both gone missing. Lex helped Clark search for his father, even confided in him about his hesitation in saving his father.

But Clark had figured out all too quickly that Lex was connected with Nixon. When Clark asked whether Lex had come along to help find Clark's father, or to find Nixon, Lex couldn't answer right away.

It wasn't exactly that he doubted his own motives in helping Clark. It was the weight of knowing this whole situation was his fault. If he'd never asked Nixon to investigate the Kents in the first place, they wouldn't be in this mess, and Mr. Kent would be safe.

But Clark misinterpreted Lex's silence, and he said the words that had driven daggers through Lex's heart: "That's the second time you hesitated today, Lex. I'm starting to wonder if what my dad said about you is true."

Lex knew Clark didn't mean to strike him where he'd be most sensitive. Usually, the darkness in him shrank away when Clark was around, so Clark never saw it. Today, he'd pulled back the curtain just the tiniest bit.

It had taken quite a lot of trust for Lex to tell Clark about what happened with his father, and Clark had shattered that trust without a thought, but he couldn't be angry with Clark. The kid was tired and scared, and Lex had broken Clark's trust as well. Still, that didn't make the crushing pain any more bearable.

Ultimately, they'd found Clark's father—he and Nixon had been trapped, and just managed to free themselves. Then, just as Lex had approached him from behind, Nixon had tried to hurt Mr. Kent, and something in Lex had taken over. He didn't know if it was that dark inner voice having its way, or some deeper, more heroic strength.

Whatever it was, Lex shot Nixon. Shot him dead.

The world went quiet.

For just a moment, Lex caught a vision. A memory, a premonition, a destiny—whatever it was, it filled his entire mind for a moment. He saw himself killing again. Over, and over, and over again, and not to save someone's life. Killing for control, for joy.

The "voice" didn't speak in response to the vision. It didn't even laugh. It merely felt—power, euphoria, ecstasy. And for a split second, it wasn't a voice in his head; it wasn't a part of him; it _was_ him.

In the moment before it disappeared back into the well-hidden recesses of the overpowering darkness in his soul, it whispered one last promise:

_"I will DEVOUR you."_

The words still echoed in in his mind, the rest of his memories a blur. He couldn't remember much about the drive over. He vaguely remembered Mr. Kent thanking him for saving his life—a strained gratitude, like he still knew the truth of who and what Lex really was.

Then, if all of that hadn't been enough, Lex had found out his father was blinded because Lex had called for surgery too soon.

Sitting in his car outside the still-crowded hospital, he wanted to give up on everything else he was working for. His father's injury would certainly make taking back the plant easier, though Lex struggled to fathom how he could carry out that fight after everything that had happened. The octagonal disk he'd found in the field was also still missing, and he couldn't help but feel like it would be the key to understanding the overwhelming mess that was his entire life, but right now he was too tired to even think about looking for it.

But he had to keep fighting. As long as he was alive, he didn't have a choice.

Of course, he could always just end it all. His death would be a favor to the world. Like his father's would have been.

A tap on his window snapped him out of his thoughts. "Lex?"

He rolled down the window, forcing himself to look up at her. "Everything okay, Mrs. Kent?"

"That's what I'm here to ask you."

"How did you know I would be here?"

"I heard about your father."

He swallowed hard, looking away. "He's blind."

"Oh, Lex. I'm so sorry. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

She reached through the window and squeezed his shoulder. "I wish you wouldn't lie to me."

Her reprimand was a mild sting over top of the raw shame he already felt for everything else, but he still felt it. "I made the wrong call. I sent him into surgery too soon."

"You couldn't have known. It's not your fault, Lex—"

Something in him snapped. He slammed his fist on the steering wheel and shouted, "Don't tell me it's not my fault!"

She said nothing for a long moment. He could swear his heartbeat was louder than his yell had just been.

"I—I'm so sorry, Mrs. Kent . . . I'm so sorry . . ."

Mrs. Kent took a step back from the car. "Lex, you're not going back to the mansion alone. You're going to spend the night at our place."

"I couldn't possibly—"

"I'm not asking."

He flinched. Her voice was as harsh as he'd ever heard it.

Cold numbness washed over his limbs as he felt himself getting out of the car. His father's berating had stung enough, and Clark's accusations from earlier still smarted more than he thought possible. He didn't think he could take her scolding as well. His whole body tensed, like he was expecting to be beaten.

As if cringing would protect him from the words. He'd have taken blows over words any day.

She reached an arm out, and he flinched, but she just wrapped it firmly around him from the side. He put his arm around her shoulder as well, and she walked him from his car to hers.

 _No_. This was all wrong. Impossibly wrong. She should be angry with him, she should hate him. Everyone else did. The darkness inside himself had been on full display today—couldn't she see it? Couldn't _everyone?_

"It's okay, sweetie, it's okay. I've got you."

His heart seemed to collapse in on itself. Whatever he had thought her scolding would feel like, her gentleness—and the acute knowledge that he didn't, _couldn't_ deserve it—hurt a thousand times more. He felt as though his insides were literally set on fire.

His knees locked up on him for a second. Her grip on him was firm, and he didn't fall, but he also couldn't let her take care of him like this anymore either.

It was his fault that Jonathan had almost died. His fault Clark had spent the night out looking for him, and Martha worrying about him. His fault Nixon was dead and Lex's father was blind, and 2500 people fired, and an entire town's economy collapsing. His fault the Kents had been in danger, and his fault that Martha wasn't home now with the family she had almost lost . . .

"Mrs. Kent, I—I messed up, you shouldn't . . ."

Her gentle hand rubbed his back. "I still love you. So does Clark."

The darkness inside—now more like a living creature, a broken-off piece of his soul—raged and screamed within him, and he could feel its searing agony. Could feel the burning—oh, it _burned!_

She had to stop. She couldn't keep caring for him like this. He didn't deserve it, he didn't belong in her embrace, and knowing that would be his undoing.

He could make her stop. He _had_ to make her stop.

He would confess. He'd tell her everything. Then she wouldn't love him anymore, and the intolerable burning would _stop_.


	14. Confession

Lex kept his head down on the drive back to the farm, careful not to look out of the window. He didn't want to see the devastation from the storm—it only reminded him of the wreckage he'd pulled his father out of at the mansion.

Every once in awhile, at a stop light, Mrs. Kent reached over and rubbed Lex's shoulder. His muscles registered the comfort, but his soul seared with every touch.

"How's your head?" She pulled up in front of the house and turned toward him.

"It's fine." That was an honest answer. He hadn't felt the pain from the cut on his forehead since it had happened, not even while the doctors were cleaning and patching it up.

She started to get out of the car, and he numbly followed. "I can get you some ice if you need it."

"I really don't."

"Okay." She lead him into the house, and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. "Dinner isn't for a couple of hours. Clark and Jonathan are out repairing some damages, but I can send Clark in to sit with you for a bit."

He couldn't hold it in any longer. "Mrs. Kent, can we talk?"

"Of course, sweetie." She sat down beside him.

Even the endearment felt like acid. "Don't call me that."

She flinched. "I'm sorry, Lex."

He immediately regretted his tone. "No—no, it's just . . . I don't belong here."

She raised her eyebrows and put a hand on his arm. "This again?"

He shrugged away her hand. "No, you have to listen to me. This year alone, I've cheated, I've lied, I've blackmailed people, I had your family investigated behind your backs after you'd been nothing but kind to me. It's my fault your livestock died, if I hadn't been such a coward back at Club Zero I could have kept anyone from getting hurt. And if I didn't hit Clark with my car that day on the bridge, I know I came close. I almost killed your son. He never should have saved me. I should have died that day."

Mrs. Kent shook her head, her brow furrowed. "Lex, we've already talked about all of this."

"No, _listen_. 2500 people lost their jobs this week. I couldn't stop it. Maybe, if I hadn't spent so much time clubbing all night and sleeping with strangers back when I lived in Metropolis, I might have learned enough business sense to keep the plant open."

"But—"

"There's more. My father almost died during the storm, Mrs. Kent. A pillar fell on him, and a section of the ceiling was about to impale him, and . . . I saved him, but I almost didn't. I wanted him out of the way so badly, to save the plant, and I only saved him because I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I had watched him die."

She gave him a gentle smile. "I know he's hurt you, and he's hurt a lot of people, but I don't think it's wrong that you saved him, Lex. He is your father, and some part of you still cares about him."

He groaned in frustration. She didn't get it. Why couldn't she understand? "Nixon never would have been investigating your family if I hadn't told him to in the first place."

"Didn't you tell him to stop?"

"Yeah, but I could have tried harder—I still wanted to see what the investigations turned up. If it weren't for me, he and Mr. Kent wouldn't have fought in the storm, Mr. Kent never would have been lost during the tornado. And Nixon would still be alive."

"We've been over the investigations, Lex. You know it was wrong, and you've been forgiven. And Nixon made his own choices. You killed him to save Jonathan."

He buried his head in his palms and cried out in distress before throwing his hands down and looking her in the eyes again. "This is what you keep doing! You keep seeing good in me, but you never know the whole story. Remember when Mr. Kent was sick a few months back, and I flew in all those specialists to research his condition? He never would have been sick if it weren't for the research I was doing. It was my fault that toxin was released in the first place."

"Lex, you can't blame yourself for—"

"Remember when those guys robbed the mansion, and Chloe ended up in the hospital, and I told Clark I didn't call the police because I cared more about Chloe than about what they stole? That was a lie. I only didn't call the police because those guys stole something they could use to blackmail me. It had nothing to do with caring about Chloe."

Mrs. Kent raised her eyebrows. "Okay. Did you care about her?"

He blinked. "Well, of course, but—"

"You visited and sent her flowers, you comforted Clark, and you sent in specialists to help her. Were you blackmailed to do that?"

His voice caught in his throat.

"How about the Palmer family? Your servants that stole from you? Were you blackmailed to pay for their daughter's medical bills?"

"Th-that costs me nothing! I'm talking about when it's something that matters!"

"Being kind to someone who hurt you always costs something, Lex."

"But—"

"What about Club Zero? You took the fall for Amanda."

"Didn't have to serve jail time," he mumbled.

"Okay, how about when Earl Jenkins took the factory hostage, and you went in there to trade your life for the hostages? Are you going to tell me you had some ulterior motive there?"

He swallowed. "I was angry with my father for doing nothing."

"Enough to risk your life?"

She had a point about that, but still, it had been different. It wasn't just any lives at stake; one of them had been Clark's. And besides, his plant was his responsibility.

"I know people are always expecting you to be your father, but you're not him. I've seen so much good in you."

He stood from the couch, shouting down at her, "That's because _you're_ so good, you're desperate to just see good in everyone. Well, guess what? Today, I killed someone, and there was this piece of me that felt more joy than I have in—in _years_. This deep, twisted part of me that's wanted to be in control of s _omething_ for so long. Watching Nixon bleed out because of a bullet in his head that _I put there_ , that was the most alive it's ever felt. And it's not the first time I've ever killed someone! My baby brother died when I was twelve, and that was my fault, too!"

There was a long silence. Lex trembled, waiting for her to shrink away in disgust, to yell at him to get out of her home, maybe even to hit him.

Finally, she stood. "Oh, Lex," she said, and reached out to embrace him.

"Stop, stop, _stop!_ " He pushed back against her, his fists striking her arms harder than he meant to. "You're not listening to me!"

She pulled back all but one hand on his shoulder. "I'm listening. You're trying to tell me you're unforgivable."

"I _am!_ "

"Well, I forgive you."

He froze, his breaths coming short.

"Do you hear me, Lex? _I forgive you_."

"You _shouldn't!_ " His voice cracked. "I'm just going to keep making the same mistakes over and over again. There's something in me, Mrs. Kent, this . . . this living darkness I can't control. Every day it gets stronger, and I can't keep my grip—the harder I try to fight it, the more it takes over. I can't stop it, I can't control it—"

"Lex—"

"—and it's only a matter of time before it wins."

"No, Lex—"

"I'm going to become a monster. Maybe I already am one."

She slid her hand to the back of his neck and squeezed hard. " _Alexander Luthor, you listen to me_."

He held his breath, his eyes suddenly locked onto hers.

"I will never, _ever_ let that happen to you. Are you hearing what I'm saying?"

He nodded, his throat closing up.

" _Never_. If your father abandons you, if everyone in your life turns and walks out, if _Clark_ turns his back on you—he never will—but even if he does, I am not going _anywhere_. I will be here every time. _Every. Time_. I will be here to help you pick up the pieces, and I will _never_ let you fall."

"Okay. Okay." Hot chills and violent tremors spread all over his body, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the inner burn started up again.

She brought her hand around to the side of his head, and her thumb traced gentle circles on his temple. "Look at me, Lex."

He pried his eyes open, and the love in her gaze shone into his core. It was like looking directly into the sun. The darkness inside him screamed out, writhing in torment, as light filled every corner of it. It hurt like a piece of his soul was being cut away with a welding torch.

This time, when she took him into her arms, he clung to her, though his arms shook violently. The room swam, and he blinked rapidly, eyes stinging, as little by little, the pain began to melt away.

"I've got you," she whispered, rubbing his back. "I've got you. You're going to be over here a lot more often, okay?"

"Okay," he managed to choke out. Hot tears streamed down his face.

"Any time things get bad at home, or you fight with your father, or that . . . that darkness in you tells you to do something you know is wrong, you're going to drive yourself over here, and I'm going to help you and take care of you. Any time you _do_ something wrong, we're going to talk about it, and we'll figure out how to fix it. And when you reopen the plant, you're going to call me, and we're going to invite you over and celebrate right."

He nodded, his cheek brushing against the side of her head as he did, wetting her hair.

"And don't you _dare_ —" she reached up and squeezed the back of his neck once again, harder than before— "think I'm going to give up on you because you make a mistake, or because your motivations aren't perfect. Like it or not, you've _proven_ to me that you're a good man, Lex. And even if I'm wrong, I'm still not giving up on you."

This time, between the trembling and the tears, he couldn't reply.

"You're stronger than your dark side, Lex." The hand that had been gripping the back of his neck relaxed, but remained in place. "And we're going to make sure it stays that way."

"Okay," he whispered, and he began to loosen his hold on her.

Very slowly, she withdrew her arms and guided him down onto the couch.

For a long time, he just sat, elbows resting on his knees, face in his hands. Mrs. Kent remained beside him. His shoulders were still shaking a little, but she put a hand on the back of his head, fingers stroking softly over the sensitive skin like only his mother had ever done. With every touch, cool waves of relief flooded down his spine and through his nerves, quieting his fears and soothing pain he'd carried for so long that he didn't even know it was still there.

Eventually, he sat up for long enough to adjust himself so his back rested against the cushions, and his eyes fluttered closed.

* * *

When she was sure that Lex was sound asleep on the couch, Martha carefully stood and walked over to the kitchen to start dinner.

Jonathan stood at the sink, arms crossed, staring out of the window.

Her heart pounded slow and hard. "How much did you hear?"

"I've been here since you came into the house."

"I see."

A long, long silence.

"Jonathan—"

"I had no idea." He turned around to face her. "You were right, Martha, he needs help. But honey . . . he needs more help than we can give."

"I can try to convince him to see a therapist, but I'm not sure how much good it will do if he's convinced no one loves him. Everyone keeps telling him he's like his father, and he believes it. He'd have a hard time finding a _therapist_ who doesn't already believe it."

"I know." He took a deep breath. "I know, and I haven't been helping. I shouldn't . . . I should never have . . . I mean . . . He's _not_ his father."

"No, he's not," Martha said, "but there's a part of him that is."

"And he hates it more than we do."

Martha's eyes stung. "He's so scared, Jonathan. He thinks it's going to take him over."

His brow furrowed. "The only way it's going to take over is if he lets it."

"I know. And eventually he will, if everyone expects him to." She gave him a pointed look.

Jonathan leaned back against the counter, taking a deep breath. "Okay. I get it."

Martha could see the conflict in his eyes. "But something's still bothering you."

His voice dropped to a low whisper. "He's . . . bound and determined to find out about Clark."

"Can you blame him? After everything he's seen?" She sighed. "But Lex killed his only source of information to keep you from getting hurt today. And that was after he tried to get Nixon to back off. I don't think he's going to keep investigating."

"Can you guarantee that?"

"No, I can't, but I think he's more likely to respect our privacy as a friend than as an enemy. He loves Clark, and he has a strong conscience."

"That, I picked up on." He rubbed his face. "He's got a guilt complex worse than Clark's, I think I could convince him the _tornado_ was his fault."

"I know. I can usually reason with Clark. This was something else."

"But hearing everything you said . . . I'm amazed at how much good he's done, considering everything he's up against, inside and out. I've been . . . hard on him, to say the least."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm not the one who needs to hear it."

He kissed her on the top of her head, squeezed her, and let go. "I'll go talk to him, then."

"Let him sleep, I'm sure he hasn't since the tornado. Besides, I don't think an apology is going to cut it."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want us to do _better_. He needs a family, Jonathan."

He paused for a long, long moment, looking deep into her eyes.

She found herself holding her breath—had she really dared to say that?

Yes. Yes, of course she had. It was the right thing to say.

Finally, Jonathan glanced toward the living room and nodded. "Well, he's found one."


	15. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in the summer interlude between 2x1, Vortex, and 2x2, Heat.

Martha didn't let a full two weeks pass during the summer without calling to invite Lex to join their family for dinner. He didn't fight her invitations, and if he had to turn one down, he offered an alternate time, which she always accepted. Running the farm kept the Kents about as busy as he was, but their schedule was usually more flexible than his around dinnertime. Lex invited them over in return a couple of times, but the enormous size of his dining room felt cold compared to the intimacy of her kitchen, and the food at the mansion was odd to their tastes, while Lex raved about Martha's cooking.

Jonathan didn't take any part in inviting Lex over, but he didn't complain when Martha told him Lex would be coming, either. Jonathan's attitude toward Lex improved considerably as well, though it was clearly difficult for him. Despite his deeply ingrained habits and long-held opinions, he seemed to keep in mind his word to Martha—that he wanted to treat Lex as one of the family. He smiled and shook hands with Lex when he arrived, made pleasant conversation over the meal, and walked Lex to the door at the end of the evening, reminding him he was always welcome. His actions were stiff at first, like he was forcing himself, but he loosened up over the course of the summer.

More than once, though, Martha watched Jonathan hold his silence when Lex was talking about his work or referencing one of the many debacles he and Clark had faced over the previous year. She was sure Lex could read Jonathan's desire to speak as well as she could, and she always held her breath, worried that Jonathan might say something hurtful or damaging, but he never did.

A couple of times over the summer, Jonathan gave Martha a curious look when she announced that Lex would be joining them for the second time in the same week. He didn't complain or demand an explanation—just gave her the look—but she did give him a reason on both occasions.

One of the times they had him over twice in a week was because of LexCorp getting on its feet—she made Lex's favorite foods and baked two pies to celebrate, and they ate dessert while watching news reports about the plant reopening. When the news anchors interviewed Gabe Sullivan, who had only good things to say about Lex, Jonathan clapped him on the back and said, "I'm proud of you, Lex." Lex didn't reply, but when Jonathan looked away, Martha caught Lex blinking and rubbing his eyes.

The other time was because Clark had seen him looking distressed and managed to get him to confess that his father had berated and backhanded him after an argument, so Clark invited him over. Instead of asking questions or drawing attention to the reasons he was there, Martha just made sure to give him an extra-long hug and a quick kiss on the offended cheek before and after dinner. She gave him some homemade ice cream to take back to the mansion, Clark kept the dinner conversation light and made Lex laugh throughout the evening, and even Jonathan gave him a couple of pats to the shoulder that might have almost been considered a side hug.

Martha might have asked how a blind man managed to accurately aim a blow to Lex's face, but she was worried that she already knew the answer: Lionel had slapped Lex often enough that he didn't have to look to hit his target. After Lex had gone home and Clark to bed, she spent a part of the evening crying softly in Jonathan's arms, imagining what Lex's childhood must have been like.

Clark had already been spending a few hours at the mansion every week. Early in the summer, he started hanging out there in the afternoons on the days Lex would be coming for dinner, or if Lex could spare the time and energy, shooting hoops in the driveway. The result of this was that both boys would come in for dinner at the same time as each other, rather than Lex having to knock on the door on his own.

To Martha, this made him seem less like a guest and more like Clark's brother. More and more, she was starting to feel like she had two sons.

* * *

Lex pulled into the driveway at the Kent house, and Clark climbed out of the car before he did. Lex was usually the one who drove Clark home after they hung out at the mansion, though he never quite understood why Clark didn't call him to get a ride over. Clark always just said he liked walking, but it was an awfully long walk. Smallville might have been a small town in terms of population, but as a farming town, it wasn't exactly geographically small. But Lex didn't feel the need to push the issue.

Lex glanced around the Kent property. It felt like coming home. The tension drained from his shoulders and back more than it ever did in response to his massage therapists. His eyes fell on where he'd seen the truck for the past few months—it was missing.

"Where's your dad's truck?" Lex asked.

"Oh." Clark rubbed the back of his neck. "Remember, it wasn't his. He was borrowing it from a friend while they were on vacation, until he could get a new one."

"So where's the new one?"

Clark looked away. The slight pink in his cheeks was the closest Lex had ever seen him come to blushing.

Normally, Lex would have interpreted Clark's embarrassment to mean there had been some sort of accident, and it had been partially—or entirely—Clark's fault. But he would have heard about that. He knew enough about the Kents' financial situation to guess the truth, and now he felt like a jerk for asking.

"We'll get one soon," Clark said finally. "We need it for the farm."

Lex nodded slowly, following Clark into the house through the door to the kitchen. Mrs. Kent was facing away from them, rummaging through the refrigerator.

"Hey Mom! We're home." Clark's voice was bright and cheery, bearing no evidence of his earlier discomfort.

Mrs. Kent closed the refrigerator door and turned around to face them. "You're late." She gave Clark a quick hug, then a light whack on the back of the arm after release. "You too, Lex." A hug and a whack, same as Clark. "Wash up. Dinner in five."

Lex had a hard time keeping the grin from his face as he waited for Clark to finish washing his hands. He'd never realized just how much he'd missed "mom hugs" until Mrs. Kent started giving them to him every week. He was really going to miss them for the next few weeks. He had to go away on a business trip, which he was already dreading enough without having to think about how much he would miss the Kents.

The smack meant almost as much to him as the hug did. It was what she gave to her son for being late, and she gave it to Lex, too. He didn't think she would have done that at the start of the summer—there was a certain intimacy in the fleeting reprimand. Even if it had stung (and it didn't), it made him feel like he belonged.

Mr. Kent came in from the other room and finished up setting the table, and the four of them sat down to eat. Lex felt his throat choke up a little as he looked around the table.

Clark, the closest he'd ever have to a brother since Julian's death, who he gladly would have died for any day of the week. Lex knew Clark was still keeping secrets, but who wasn't? Most days it didn't bother him.

Mrs. Kent, who held Lex when he was hurting and reminded him he was loved and wanted. He never could have dared to hope for the kind of care she'd given him.

Mr. Kent, who at least put on a pleasant face when Lex was around, and even once told him he was proud of him—and that was more than his father had ever done, unless he was trying to manipulate Lex. But no part of Lex really believed the Kents were capable of that. The darkness inside of him occasionally taunted him about it, but even it was half-hearted.

Lex found himself glancing out of the window at the empty space where the Kents' truck used to be. He kept up with the conversation as much as he could, but he was distracted by the empty space. It wasn't fair—the Kents deserved everything, and it wasn't their fault that Nixon had destroyed their old truck. If anything, it was Lex's fault, for setting Nixon on them in the first place.

He could buy them a new truck. His accounts wouldn't even be able to feel the cost. He'd _tried_ before, when Clark had first saved his life, and they'd returned it to him. And he'd tried to invest in the farm, only to have his offers ungraciously rejected. And he'd tried to reimburse the Kents for the livestock and land they'd lost during Lex's conflict over Club Zero, but Mr. Kent had rejected him then, too—hard.

Mr. Kent had been much more civil to him over the summer, though. He wasn't sure what had changed—he suspected Mrs. Kent had something to do with it—but maybe it was enough that they'd accept his help now.

Clark was the first to finish eating and bring his dishes to the sink; this was as good a time to offer as any.

"I'm headed out on my trip tomorrow morning." Lex stood with his plate as well. "So I won't be around for the next couple of weeks."

"We'll miss you, Lex," Clark said.

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual. I, um . . ." He turned back toward the table, where Mr. and Mrs. Kent still sat. "I want to thank you for your hospitality, especially over the past few months. As you know, this has been a trying time for me, between my father's injury and difficulties with LexCorp. You all have given me so much more than I deserved, in terms of—"

"Hey." Mrs. Kent stood and walked over to him, pulling him into a brief, tight hug. "None of that. This is what family does."

His throat tightened as she stepped back and smiled at him. Family. She called him _family._

If he wanted to say it, he'd need to spit it out. "I know your truck was destroyed. I want to buy you a new one."

Her jaw dropped, and Mr. Kent's eyebrows raised.

"Lex, would you come take a walk with me for a minute?"

Lex swallowed and nodded. He followed Mr. Kent out into the cool night air, hoping desperately that he hadn't somehow unwittingly destroyed what he had.

They walked for a couple of minutes before Mr. Kent spoke. "Son, I know I haven't exactly been kind to you the last couple of times you've offered money or gifts. We're very proud of our work and our home, and we work hard for everything we have. We don't take charity."

"It's not charity. I'm not a charitable man."

"My wife disagrees," he grumbled.

Lex looked over at Mr. Kent, though he kept his eyes on the ground as they walked. "I gave Clark the truck as a thank you for saving my life. I offered my help with the farm as a genuine business investment. And the check you gave back to me was to replace the land and livestock you lost."

"Okay. But you gave Clark concert tickets and football tickets, you lent him your limo, you hired someone to set up a drive-in theater for Lana's birthday, you call in an army of medical specialists from Metropolis every time one of his friends breaks an arm—"

"Clark is my friend."

"Yes, and friends sometimes give gifts, but usually for birthdays and Christmas. And not cars. Small things, or something sentimental."

"Because that's what most people can afford."

Mr. Kent made a face. "That might be. But it's not about that. It's about what the receiving party can feel comfortable accepting without feeling indebted."

Lex almost laughed out loud. Mr. Kent really thought they could be indebted to Lex if they accepted his help? Lex owed them his life, for saving it and for giving him a place in their family. Owed them his pathetic, worthless life, a hundred times over.

He grimaced. If his gifts were really making them uncomfortable, and they wanted him to stop, he owed that to them, too, even if he didn't agree.

Lex took a deep breath. "Okay, I understand, Mr. Kent. But would you reconsider accepting my reimbursement for your livestock?"

"No. Because I know it wasn't LuthorCorp that did it, and it definitely wasn't your fault."

"I know, but you were caught in the crossfire of my fight. The money means nothing to me, and it would mean everything to me to be allowed to give it to you."

Mr. Kent stopped walking and turned to face Lex, arms crossed.

Lex had a hard time keeping himself from cringing. A long minute passed.

"Fine," Mr. Kent said finally. "But that's the last financial help you're giving us."

"Okay." They'd come full circle in their walk, and they approached the door to the house. "But I'm not going to stop with the medical specialists if any of you get sick again. I'm not taking that kind of risk."

Mr. Kent laughed, his smile wide. "I think I can accept that."


	16. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins in the middle of 2x2, Heat, in which Clark first discovers his heat vision, and also a new teacher at Smallville High, Desiree Atkins, uses kryptonite-enhanced pheromones to make Lex marry her and cut ties with most of his friends. It does include a few direct quotes from the episode. I obviously don't own anything.

Everything had changed so suddenly.

One minute, the Kents were like family, and Clark was like his brother. Clark was even the best man at his wedding. Since then, Clark had tried to seduce Lex's wife, set fire to her car, and gotten himself arrested.

Lex paced in the empty coffee shop. He knew he should feel betrayed, enraged, anguished. Instead, he just felt . . . lethargic. Peaceful. And incredibly, overwhelmingly attracted to Desiree. As long as he had her, everything would be alright.

Lex was finishing up a phone call about selling the Talon when Mrs. Kent entered the building.

"Mrs. Kent."

Her eyes narrowed. "I was looking for Nell."

"Ah, she just left. I believe she's arranging for the movers."

Mrs. Kent stalked toward him. "What's gotten into you, Lex?"

He stepped back, thinking for a second that she was going to slap him. "What do you mean?"

She stopped a couple of feet short of him. "You know Clark had nothing to do with that car fire."

He swallowed. There was some little part of his mind, buried deep in the back, that was screaming at him that she was right, that Clark would never do that. Was that his darkness? No, it wasn't . . . what was it? He was having such a hard time thinking straight. He had been for awhile. When had that started?

"Clark is in jail. Your wife put him there."

Lex's breath caught in his throat.

"You know Clark. He's not a criminal. He's stood by you no matter what. Ask yourself, is he _really_ capable of this?"

"I wouldn't have thought so. But I know Desiree."

"Lex! You met and married her in a week! How well could you know her?"

His jaw clenched. What she was saying made so much sense, and yet . . . she had to be wrong . . .

"Lex, come over for dinner. We haven't seen you since your trip. We miss you. Just for an evening, come home."

_Home_. That same little part of the back of his mind nudged him, crying out in longing. He felt a sudden, aching desire to embrace Mrs. Kent, or rather, to be embraced by her. It bore no resemblance to his need for Desiree's touch, but for just a moment, it was stronger.

But the feeling passed. He had Desiree. That was all he needed. Besides, he was mad at Clark, wasn't he? Clark had tried to come on to Desiree. And he lied to Lex. Hadn't Lex always known that? Clark lied all the time.

Mrs. Kent stepped closer to him, now less than a foot away. "I'm not giving up on you, Lex. I made you a promise, and I'll keep it." She reached out gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. "I have to go find Nell. But this isn't over."

She turned and fled the Talon, leaving Lex's mind spinning.

Maybe he should talk to Desiree. Just in case.

* * *

Martha headed over to the mansion as soon as she heard what had happened.

She knew there was something different about Desiree from the beginning, but she didn't realize how powerful her persuasive powers were until Lex had destroyed nearly all of his relationships. And Desiree had gotten _Jonathan_ to kiss her, and then to try to kill Lex—Clark had only just managed to save his life by melting the bullet mid-air with her heat vision. If Desiree had had so much power as to be able to sway Jonathan, that pretty much cleared Lex of any guilt, in Martha's mind.

She was thankful she hadn't really let him have it the other day—she was sure he was still embarrassed about the scolding she'd delivered, but he would recover easily enough. She'd scolded Clark harder for lesser offenses, and he'd been fine within a day.

She found him in his study, staring at his laptop at his desk. "Hi Lex."

"Mrs. Kent." His eyes widened, and he closed his laptop. "I'm so sorry about the past week, I don't know what came over me."

"It's alright, Lex. I heard about Desiree. I know it wasn't your fault."

He nodded, standing from his desk. "How is everyone?"

"A bit shaken, but we're alright. Clark's out of jail, thanks to you. And Jonathan is recovering. He's taking me out to dinner tonight."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"I told him I wanted to check on you, so he's wrapping up some chores with Clark first." She took a step closer to him. "Are you doing okay, Lex?"

He sighed. "I will be. I don't really want to talk about it. I'd really just rather forget this whole thing happened."

Martha smiled gently. Jonathan had turned beet red when she'd asked about the kiss—Lex had actually gone and married the girl against his own will. "Would you like to be alone?"

Lex looked away for a moment, then back to her. "Yeah, I'm okay. I hope you and Mr. Kent enjoy your evening."

She searched his eyes for a moment. She couldn't tell if he was lying. If he had liked Desiree before she had cast her influence over him, he was probably in a lot more pain than he was letting on. Even if the marriage had been a sham, he was still going through a divorce, and he was only twenty-two. But she couldn't push him to talk about it before he was ready. "Alright, Lex. If you do want to talk about anything—"

"I'll give you a call."

She shook her head. "Just drop by the house."

"Thanks, Mrs. Kent." He smiled.

Martha reached out to embrace him, and he opened his arms. She rubbed his back, and he stiffened. The embarrassment over the situation must have been affecting him more than she thought. Her meddling wouldn't help with that—it would wait until things settled down. She patted his back before releasing him, and he gasped.

She jumped back. His wince faded, but not soon enough to keep her from seeing it. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Some minor burns."

She should have known. "Clark mentioned you got burned, but he made it sound like he put out the fire almost as soon as it was set."

He looked away.

"Have you had anyone take a look at it?"

"No. But I'm sure it's fine."

That was a clear lie. Now that she was looking for it, she could see the pain in his face. "Lex."

His eyes met hers. "It was an alcohol fire. Alcohol burns cool."

"I'm sure, but fabric doesn't. Are you going to see a doctor?"

"It's not that bad." Lex shrugged.

Martha raised her eyebrows. "Can I take a look?"

His cheeks turned slightly pink. "Ah, I'm not sure you want to see it."

"You just said it wasn't that bad."

Lex turned a little redder.

She knew it couldn't be easy for him to be vulnerable with her in that way, despite the relationship they'd built, but she really needed to know the injury wasn't too serious. No one else would. "I just want to see."

He sighed and unbuttoned his shirt, turning to face away from her.

She bit back a gasp. His back was deep pink all over. The redness lightened around the edges, but still extended up to his shoulders and the backs of his arms. A few blisters split his skin, but there was no black or white charred flesh, and no gaping wounds. It looked like it was probably about as painful as it could possibly be without requiring serious medical attention, though those open blisters could still get infected if he did nothing.

"Okay," she said softly. "You're right, it's probably not bad enough to need a doctor, but it's still pretty bad. What have you done for it?"

"You're not supposed to ice burns." He reached for his shirt, which he'd left draped over his desk.

She picked up the shirt before he could. "So, nothing."

"I guess not."

She looked a little closer at the split skin. "Some of this should really be bandaged."

"I'm okay."

He wasn't going to be able to bandage himself—even if he could have reached on a normal day, which she doubted, it would be excruciating to stretch the burned skin. "Can you get one of your servants to help you with that?"

"I'll be fine, Mrs. Kent."

Martha sighed. She wasn't going to let his wounds get infected just because he couldn't bother to take care of himself. "You keep medical supplies in the bathroom down the hall?"

"I—I think so, but—"

"Lie down, I'll be right back."

"Isn't Mr. Kent waiting for you?"

"I told you, he had chores to finish, we're not leaving for a couple of hours. Lie down."

She set down his shirt on the table and hurried into the bathroom and rummaged under the sink for a first aid kit, as well as a couple of wash cloths. She tucked the first aid kit under her arm, ran the cloths under cold water and wrung them out, and returned to the study.

Lex still stood by his desk, holding onto his shirt and staring at her.

Martha set the supplies down on the end table and gestured to the couch. "Lie down, Lex."

"I . . . no, you—"

"Okay. Your choice." She crossed her arms. "You're going to let me help you, or I'll call Clark to help you. Either way, this is happening."

He stepped back.

"Or I could always call your doctor. One of your servants has to have the number—"

He groaned and lay down on the couch on his stomach, face buried in the cushion.

"Was that so hard?" She picked up the wash cloths and knelt next to the couch. "How's the pain?"

"It's like a sunburn."

She held back a snort. She was sure the type of pain was the same as a sunburn, but the intensity must have been unbearable. "We'll start with this, then." She laid out the cool, damp cloths to cover the skin. It was what Jonathan did when he was sunburned, and it was what she did for Clark when he was little, before his invulnerability protected him from UV rays.

Lex's breathing slowed, and he shifted his face toward the back of the couch.

She cupped the back of his head, stroking gently. "Any better?"

"Yeah."

Martha stood and returned to the first aid kit, taking out a roll of gauze. Bandaging the wounds would hurt some, which was why she wanted to give him some relief first. It wouldn't be as bad as removing and replacing them, but that was tomorrow's problem.

After a minute, she took the cooling cloths away and began to bandage the open wounds.

" _Ah!_ " He gasped and buried his face back into the cushion, his muscles tensing as the gauze made contact with the tortured flesh. She winced—it had to be burning.

"I know, I know," she whispered, and squeezed his hand when she could spare hers. "Almost done."

He breathed hard, but kept still as she finished the bandaging.

She finished the last of the taping, and stood. "Okay. You can get up."

He did, and she tossed him his shirt, which he gingerly pulled on. "Thanks, Mrs. Kent."

"Don't thank me. I'm coming back to change the bandages tomorrow."

He frowned. "You should get home. Mr. Kent will be waiting."

"I'm going now. When you get a chance, come visit Clark. I'm sure he's worried about you."

"I was planning on coming by tonight."

"Good." She started to reach towards him, but pulled her hands back. "I'll, uh, plan on giving you an extra hug when you're healed."

He smiled. "I look forward to it."


	17. Pete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins at the end of 2x3, Duplicity, in which Clark shares his secret with Pete, and Lionel moves back in with Lex after abandoning his physical therapy. Using a few direct quotes. I do not own.

If Martha had been asked which of Clark's friends would—or should—find out Clark's secret, Pete wouldn't necessarily have been first to come to mind.

She thought Chloe was in the best position to handle the burden of the secret, and possibly most likely to stumble upon it, considering her investigative personality. Even though she was a journalist at heart, she would be able to keep the information quiet for Clark's sake, and she would have been a steady confidant for Clark when the pressure became too much. Besides, she obviously liked Clark—if things didn't work out with Lana, Martha was rooting for Chloe.

Assuming things did work with Lana, though, she was the one Clark would need to tell eventually. Assuming Clark ever wanted to have a real relationship with her—more and more likely, now that Whitney was far away and Clark and Lana's friendship kept growing stronger—he would need to be able to be open and honest with her. Based on what Martha could glean from Clark's stories, Lana had already been hurt a few times by what she perceived as Clark's dishonesty.

But Martha had thought Lex would probably be first to know the secret. Lex had held up under torture in the old remains of Club Zero to protect his friend Amanda, and Martha couldn't imagine him doing any less to protect Clark. He was also an adult. If Lex was in on the secret, she had no doubt he would employ all of his resources to protect Clark and support him in every one of his fights. Of course, she had mixed feelings about that, as Lex would probably put himself in danger with his involvement, and he had plenty of his own issues to deal with. Then again, the feeling of belonging such trust might bring him might be worth the weight of the responsibility.

But Pete had been Clark's choice, and it made sense. Clark had been friends with Pete the longest, and Pete was unquestionably loyal to the Kents. He would do everything in his power to keep the secret. He would support Clark as needed, but he wouldn't interfere in a way that would endanger Clark or himself.

So maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe Pete was the best choice.

"Pete . . . I'm proud of you," Jonathan said. "But I do hope you realize what a tremendous responsibility knowing this secret is. And believe me, it's not going to get any easier."

Clark grinned at Pete. "That's my dad's way of saying, welcome to the family."

Pete smiled, and Martha did as well. The reduced tension in her son's shoulders was almost tangible in the room. If she'd known that letting him reveal his secret to a single trusted friend would be this relieving to him, they might have been having a very different conversation long ago.

A soft knock on the door. Martha smiled and excused herself.

Lex stood on their porch. He wore what she'd come to recognize as his hurt expression—back straight, head raised, jaw set, eyes broken.

"Mrs. Kent, I—" His eyes wandered over her shoulder, toward where Jonathan, Pete, and Clark stood in the kitchen. "I'm sorry, I'm interrupting. I tried to call but I, ah, couldn't get ahold of you."

"No, it's okay," Martha said. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just wanted to ask what your dinner plans were tonight, but you have company." He stepped back. "I'll call about another day—"

Martha took his arm. "Lex, Clark told me your father's staying with you for a little while."

"Ah . . . It might be more than a little while."

She smiled gently. "Come on in. There's more than enough food for five."

Martha gestured toward the kitchen and waited for Lex to pass her before she closed the door. She watched carefully for Lex's reaction upon seeing Pete—the last time they'd met, Pete had been under the influence of a toxin that had lead to him trying to kill Lex.

Lex gave Pete a half smile, which Pete returned with a glare. Neither Jonathan nor Clark seemed to notice the exchange, but Martha made a mental note to keep an eye on those two.

"Why don't you all have a seat in the living room? I just need to heat up dinner."

"Any way I can help, Mrs. Kent?" Lex lingered a few feet away from the others.

Martha had already prepared the casserole in advance, but she knew why he was asking. "Sure, Lex."

"I'm going to take care of a couple of things before dinner." Jonathan stood from the table and headed outside, while Pete and Clark retreated into the living room. A moment later, she heard the TV going.

She took the glass dish out of the refrigerator and slid it into the oven before straightening up and facing Lex. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shrugged. "Not really."

"Well, I'm glad you're here. We've missed you." She pulled him into an embrace. He hugged her back a little tighter than usual, as he often did when he'd been fighting with his father. She kissed the side of his head, and she didn't let go until he did. When she did step back, his expression was peaceful. "Set the table for me?"

He nodded and went immediately to the cabinet with the plates. She picked up the silverware, and once the table was set, she sat beside him, asking him how things at the plant were going. They talked about business for awhile, and she watched him begin to relax at the distraction from his home life. Her hand gently covered his on the table, and he didn't try to pull away.

Jonathan returned to the house a minute before the kitchen timer was set to go off, and Martha called Clark and Pete in to wash up.

The tension at the dinner table reminded her of the very first night they had ever had Lex over. Though Clark continued to chatter away happily, and this time Jonathan was listening and responding, Pete alternated between giving Lex cold looks and avoiding his gaze altogether, while Lex sat very stiffly.

At a lull in the conversation, Pete looked up at Lex. "See your father much?" Venom dripped from his voice.

Lex's jaw pulsed. "He's staying at the mansion right now."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you."

"Lex," Martha warned, and he returned to eating.

It was quiet for a few moments before Pete spoke again. "Any new corporate schemes we should know about?"

Lex put down his fork. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Like you don't know. Who's your next victim?"

"Pete, that's enough." Jonathan spoke before Martha could.

Lex stood from the table. "For your information, my father and I don't work together anymore. I run my corporation and he runs his. Now, before you keep making accusations about things you know nothing about—"

"Lex, with me." Jonathan stood also and gestured toward the door.

"Jonathan—" Martha started, but he just squeezed her shoulder. She looked up at him, and the gentleness in his eyes spoke volumes. He wasn't going to scold Lex for defending herself. He was giving her space to find out what was going on with Pete.

Lex stepped back from Jonathan. "Mr. Kent, he has no right—"

" _With me_." There was no denying that tone, and Lex swallowed, giving Pete a quick glare before following Jonathan.

Once the door was closed, Martha breathed in to speak, but Clark beat her to it. "What was that, Pete?"

Pete turned to Clark. "Does he know?"

"Does he know what?"

"Your secret!"

Clark swallowed. "No."

Pete let out a sigh of relief. "Good."

"Why?"

"Because he'd betray you!"

"How could you know that? He's always been a good friend."

"His father cheated my family out of their factory! Luthors don't know what friendship _is!_ "

Martha held herself back from correcting Pete too harshly. In his eyes, she saw no true hatred, only the fear of a child. He knew how badly Lionel had hurt his family, and he was afraid of the same thing happening to the Kents. He was only behaving this way out of love and concern.

But his parents' prejudice had been transferred to him—he assumed Lex was the same as Lionel, just like Jonathan had, even with all evidence to the contrary staring him in the face.

Martha didn't want to think about how Clark might have started treating Lex in a few years if she'd allowed Jonathan's initial opinions to rub off on him.

She wasn't at liberty to tell Pete that Lex was abused by his father—Lex would be mortified. But she couldn't leave things like this, either. "Pete, has Lex done something to you?"

"I just told you! The creamed corn factory—"

"Do you know how old Lex was when that happened?"

Pete was quiet, fuming.

"He was nine, Pete. At the time of the negotiations, he was also unconscious in the hospital due to injuries from the meteor shower."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?"

 _He did grow up with Lionel . . ._ "That's not what I'm saying. I want to know if Lex ever did anything to you."

"His father raised him to be just like him. It's in his blood."

She wasn't going to fight him or try to undermine what his parents had told him. It wasn't her place, and she wasn't going to be able to argue her way to convincing him, anyway. "I understand you're angry, Pete. I think we're going to have to agree to disagree about this. But I can't let you treat him that way in our home. Or anyone, for that matter."

Pete sighed and picked back up his fork. "I hope I'm wrong about him, Mrs. Kent."

 _You_ _are._ She thought it, but didn't say it aloud.

* * *

Long after Pete and Lex had gone their separate ways and Clark had gone to bed, Martha and Jonathan sat beside each other on the couch.

"What did you tell Lex?" Martha asked.

"When I took him outside?"

She nodded.

He sighed. "Well, for starters, I asked him what happened at the dinner table. He was a little scared at first, I'm guessing Lionel only ever called him away like that to hurt him. But then he started ranting about how everyone assumes he's a carbon copy of his father. I let him go on for a few minutes, then I asked him if he thought it was true."

"What did he say?"

"He couldn't answer."

Martha's eyes fell shut. Had she failed him so completely?

Jonathan sighed and pulled her into a hug. "I know. I told him I didn't think he was like his father, and I gave him a few reasons why."

"Thank you." She squeezed him a little tighter and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm not sure he believed me, honey."

"We can work on that."

"I know. I was trying to help him, but he didn't say anything for awhile." He took a deep breath. "Then he said he wished we were his parents."

Martha pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "What did you say?"

"I didn't know what to say. His eyes started tearing up, and I—" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Martha, I looked away. I didn't want to embarrass him, and . . . I didn't say anything."

She nodded slowly and wrapped her arms around him again. She probably would have struggled to find the words in that moment, too. "We'll work on it. He'll be okay, Jonathan."

"Yeah," he said, and kissed her on the top of her head.


	18. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after 2x4, Red, in which Clark first puts on a red Kryptonite ring and runs wild.

Lex sat at his desk staring at his laptop, trying to get work done, but the events of the day kept running through his mind.

Clark had shown up in a $2000 coat, all but demanded to borrow the Ferrari, and later informed Lex he was running away with some girl—and it wasn't even Lana. Lex had only just managed to stall him by inviting himself along.

He'd chalk the whole thing up to Clark being a teenager, but Clark had never, _ever_ once shown signs of fear, worry, or bitterness over his family's poverty. Mr. and Mrs. Kent bore the stress, and it had taken Lex a lot of effort not to offer to help them, but Clark never seemed to feel the strain or even think about it, aside from some occasional momentary embarrassment when Lex said the wrong thing at the wrong time.

If not for everything he'd seen in Smallville over the past year, Lex would have suspected that he'd vastly misjudged Clark from the start. But after everything he'd seen, it felt more likely that Clark had been temporarily infected by some mysterious disease or toxin that had left him temporarily insane.

He wished Clark would just tell him what it had been. But Clark didn't like to talk about what his friend Chloe would have called "Wall of Weird" material. A year ago, Clark had yelled at Lex when he asked him to be honest about what happened during the car accident; a few weeks ago, he'd refused to speculate what might have allowed Desiree her powers of persuasion. Today, however much Lex wanted to know what had happened, he wasn't willing to risk an argument about that.

It was one thing for Clark to insist on keeping secrets about himself, but it felt a lot more exasperating when Clark clearly knew more than he was letting on about things that involved Lex. There was nothing Lex could do about it, though, so he tried hard not to let it get to him.

Besides, today he had other reasons to be frustrated with Clark.

"Hey Lex."

Lex looked up from his laptop. Clark stood in the doorway of the study. "Hey, Clark."

"I brought back the Ferrari."

Lex nodded. "Can I give you a ride home?"

"It's okay, my mom is coming to pick me up." Clark shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Something on your mind?"

Clark walked the rest of the way into the study, stopping a few feet short of the desk. "I really messed things up with Lana."

"What happened to Jessie?"

"She's, uh . . . she's gone."

Lex raised his eyebrows, but decided to let it go. That was the least of his concerns, and it wasn't his business. "I see."

"Like I said, I messed up. And Lana's still upset with me."

"Yeah? How about your parents?"

"What about them?"

"I heard what you did at the farm."

"Oh. Yeah. Won't be making that mistake again." Clark smiled a little, but his face fell when he saw the look on Lex's face. "You're not upset with me for _that_ , are you?"

Lex closed his laptop and stood from the desk. "How did you afford all of those things?"

"I . . . might have stolen my parents' credit cards." Clark winced. "But don't worry! I returned everything."

"I just never pegged you for the materialistic type, Clark."

"You should talk!" Clark spread out his arms, gesturing to the mansion.

Lex's heart pounded hard against his rib cage. He had probably been asking for that comment. Still, most people made snide remarks about Lex's wealth; Clark had never once. He and his family were the only ones who had always seen through the money to Lex himself. "Are you jealous of me, Clark?"

"No!" Clark retorted a little too quickly, and sighed. "Not exactly. Most of the time I don't even think about it, but sometimes . . ."

"Sometimes what?"

He shook his head. "You don't know what it's like. You've never had to worry about money, not once in your life."

Lex took a step toward Clark. "I would give _anything_ to trade places with you."

Clark's expression darkened. "You _want_ to be poor?"

"You've never seemed to mind it. What happened to you?"

"You want to know what happened?" Clark's voice rose steadily. "I saved up my own money for months to buy a class ring, and my dad _said_ it was my choice how to spend the money, and then I bought it, and my dad got all upset with me, lecturing and guilting. He didn't care how hard I worked to save the money, he didn't care that it was my choice to make—he even _said_ it was my choice to make, and then he still got upset!" Clark's voice shook.

Lex tried and failed to imagine having such a close relationship with his father that a disagreement over something so small would bring him close to tears. "Is he still upset with you for stealing the credit cards?"

"I . . . I don't think so. He made me return everything, but—"

"Good!"

"Are you mocking me?"

Lex shook his head. "You don't know how good you have it, Clark. You were going to run away from all of that. How—how _could you_ . . ."

Clark scoffed. "Lex, you can't imagine—"

"What can't I imagine, Clark?"

"You've always had everything you've ever wanted!"

Lex slammed his fist down on the desk. "I only want _one thing_ , Clark, and I'll _never, ever get it!_ "

The silence in the room after his outburst roared in his ears.

Clark swallowed. "Lex . . ."

Lex shook his head, unclenching his fist. He wanted to apologize for yelling, but his voice caught in his throat.

". . . Lex, are _you_ jealous of _me?_ "

He looked away, blinking a few times, waiting for the tightness in his throat to settle down before speaking again. "Your parents love you."

Clark let his breath out, fidgeting with his fingers for a moment. "They love you too, you know."

Lex knew that. But his own father would never love him. "It's not the same, Clark. I'm not their flesh and blood."

"Neither am I!"

He'd worded that wrong. "I'm not their son."

Clark's brow furrowed. "Lex . . . they've told you you're part of their family. What do you think you are?"

Lex's breath caught again, and this time he couldn't let it out until Clark had trudged out of the study and out of sight.

" _You can't be considering believing him._ "

Lex flinched. The voice had been quiet and half-hearted for the past few months. This was the first time in awhile that it had spoken so convincingly.

" _He lies to you. He keeps secrets. He doesn't trust you._ "

"We all have our secrets."

" _Pete knows them_."

A heavy weight pressed into Lex's chest. He'd seen the way Pete leered at him, like he knew something Lex didn't. "I'm lucky to be part of their lives at all. Everyone has secrets, this has nothing to do with me. It's not personal."

" _You believe that?_ "

No, he didn't.

That old anger boiled up inside him again, the anger over Clark's lies. He took deep breaths, but his teeth clenched, his jaw pulsing.

He'd kept it under control for a long time—he _had_ to keep it under control, if he wanted to keep the Kents as his friends—but every once in awhile, it hit him afresh. If they could be lying to him about this, how could he trust them about anything?


	19. Job Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This contains direct quotes from 2x5, Nocturne. I own nothing.

Martha stepped into the garden outside the mansion. Lex hadn't left the produce check out like he'd said he would. She didn't blame him for forgetting—he was under even more stress than usual. He'd called her to tell her he couldn't make it to dinner like he'd promised, and ended up venting about his father's latest antics. Something about his father firing all of the assistants Lex found for him, and insulting him. At least it didn't sound like there had been any hitting this time.

She made a mental note to call him later and was about to leave the property when a robotic voice stopped her. She followed it and found Lionel sitting on a bench with a newspaper and a reading device.

The sight of him made her blood boil, thinking about the way he treated his son. But it also gave her an idea.

An assistant working out of the mansion would be an extra set of eyes on its inner workings. If she could get the job, she could be those eyes. She'd know if Lex was being hurt so she could take care of him sooner, and if Lionel was to plan a corporate attack against Lex, she could keep him from being blindsided like he was when Lionel shut down the plant. Lex had only just managed to save the town from economic ruin the last time—an ally on the inside could be the difference between victory and defeat next time.

Martha knew that Lex wouldn't know what to do with her application if she sent one to him. But based on what little she had picked up from Lex, as well as her own observations of how the Luthor world worked, Lionel wasn't necessarily looking for an assistant with an impressive resume. He was looking for someone who was aware enough to see through lies and deceptions, sharp enough to make a contribution to their many corporate chess matches, and tough enough to run with him. She fit the bill.

Now to prove it to Lionel.

Lionel threw down the reading device in frustration. This was her chance.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to sound casual. "I couldn't listen to another word of that droning, either."

"Who is that?"

"It's Martha Kent. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No, no. It's a welcome interruption."

"I came by to pick up the monthly produce check from Lex. He said he'd leave it out for me."

"I'm afraid my presence here has thrown Lex's regimented routine into a mild chaos."

She wanted to say something, to give him a piece of her mind, but that wouldn't help Lex. It would only make things worse for him. And it wouldn't get her hired.

She sat down on the bench next to him instead, taking the newspaper from him. "'The plummeting stock sent a ripple through investment houses. CEO Lionel Luthor attributed the drop to this quarter's anticipated deficit.'" She didn't even hesitate. "It's all a smokescreen, isn't it? You're trying to make investors nervous so when LuthorCorp posts less than impressive gains, the stock will have already adjusted."

Lionel took of his sunglasses and turned to face her. "I had no idea Martha Kent had such keen business acumen. I wonder if your talents aren't being wasted on organic produce."

That had been too easy. She didn't bother to hold back her triumphant smile—it wasn't as if he could see it.

* * *

Lex's eyes fell closed for the hundredth time, and he rubbed his face, blinking and forcing himself to focus on his work at his laptop. He'd spent the better part of the yesterday interviewing applicants for the forever-open position of his father's assistant, so he'd been up for half the night catching up on the rest of his work. And when he did sleep, his nightmares had been worse than usual. That always happened when his father was staying with him.

He suddenly remembered that he'd forgotten to leave the produce check out for Mrs. Kent like he'd said he would. He opened some of his bookkeeping spreadsheets, and his eyes skimmed, when her name jumped out at him.

Suddenly he was awake.

As quiet as Lex had been trying to keep his relationship with the Kents, making excuses by saying he was just going to visit Clark, his father must have figured out the truth. He couldn't imagine what his father was trying to gain by offering her a job.

He'd thought Mrs. Kent was smarter than to take the offer. She had to know he always had something planned. His first instinct was to go straight to his father and try to figure out what he wanted—maybe he could still protect the Kents—but if Mrs. Kent had taken the job willingly, maybe he could reason with her instead.

He didn't want to try to tell her over the phone. He immediately ran down to one of his cars and drove to the farm.

If he was honest with himself, what hurt the most was that she didn't talk to him about it in advance. It reignited the pain of remembering the Kents were still keeping secrets, no matter how much he wanted to ignore it.

Of course, there was no use in bringing that up to Mrs. Kent. He just needed to warn her about the danger of working for his father.

He went to the side door in the kitchen rather than the front, knocking rapidly. It was early, but they'd be awake. Mrs. Kent opened the door within a few seconds, in a brown pants suit with a striped button-down shirt underneath.

"Hi Lex. I was just heading out, but maybe you can come back for dinner tonight?"

"You're going to work?"

"I see you've heard. Your father hired me as his assistant. I figure maybe that saves you some time holding interviews."

It wouldn't do any good to tell her he'd finished them yesterday. "I know Mr. Kent's warmed up to me over the past few months, but I was sure he still hated my father. I thought _you_ did."

She stepped out of the house, closing the door behind herself. "Well, we don't care for him."

"How does your husband feel about you taking the job?"

"He wasn't thrilled, but we could use the money, and it seemed like a good opportunity for me to use my education."

The comment about money hit him like a punch to the gut. "Mrs. Kent—" his voice cracked— "I come to you when I need something. I wish you'd do the same for me. If you were that desperate for money—"

"No, no, no. It's not that, Lex, that was just a small part of it. It's what I told Jonathan to help him see my side."

"Even so—"

She put a hand on his arm. "Someday, God willing, Clark will move out and get a job that allows him to be more financially stable than we are. We'll never ask him for money. We're not going to ask you."

Lex wasn't sure whether she meant to say they thought of him like a son, or just to make the point that if they wouldn't ask the closest person to them for help, they certainly wouldn't ask Lex. He didn't dare hope for the former, no matter what Clark claimed. And he wasn't about to ask her to clarify.

"Okay," he said finally. "Why did you take the job?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to the challenge, but I could have gotten that at another job. I didn't choose to work for your father because I trust him. I did it to help you."

Lex blinked. That was the last thing he'd been expecting to hear.

She gave his arm a quick squeeze, stepped past him, and started walking toward her car.

"Wait, wait." He followed after her. "You know my father. He wouldn't hire you without some kind of ulterior motive—"

"You don't think I'm qualified for the job?"

"I really wouldn't know, but . . . I think he knows you've been . . . taking care of me."

"I'm not sure I see your point."

She really didn't know. Lex clenched his teeth. He could imagine a million different scenarios, terrifying moves his father could make with this new chess piece. There was no limit to the ways he could use Lex's care for the Kents against them him, against them, even against his employees. And Mrs. Kent working for him opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

Mrs. Kent stopped right beside her car. "Lex, do you trust me?"

He didn't know how to answer that. He trusted her to tell him what she believed to be the truth, and he was starting to trust that her care for him could survive through his mistakes, but he didn't trust her to know how dangerous his father could be. "It's my father I'm concerned about."

"Me too. That's why I thought you could use an extra set of eyes on the inside."

He swallowed hard. She was right—it would be helpful to him—but he couldn't let her take that kind of risk. Not for him. "I—I can't guarantee your safety."

She reached up and gently pressed her hand into the side of his head, thumb stroking his temple. "You don't have to, sweetie. It's not your job to protect me."

He took her hand and lowered it away from his face. "Yes, it is."

"Because you think I can't look out for myself?"

"It's not that." His throat tightened. "I couldn't stand it if something happened to you."

"I feel the same way about you. You've protected us enough. Can't I do this one thing for you?"

He wanted to snap that she'd done far more for him than he'd ever done for her, but he held his tongue. It wouldn't help, for one thing, and he had too much respect for her to speak to her in that way. Aside from that, though, he knew that wasn't what she meant. She was talking about protection from the fallout of his corporate games—something Lex had never had from anyone.

She sighed. "It's not just for you, Lex. I know you're . . . _at war_ with your father, as you like to say, and I've seen what happens to this town when he wins a battle."

"So you think _I_ can't take care of myself."

"I think you've done amazingly so far. But there's a lot at stake, and you can use all the help you can get."

He breathed in to speak, then closed his mouth. She was right.

"I'm running late." Mrs. Kent pulled him into a quick hug. "Love you, Lex. I'll see you tonight for dinner."

He watched her drive away. He could feel that inner voice inside him wanting to say something, but not bothering to try. He could even sense that it might still have some good points to make, but anything it might have said would be drowned by Mrs. Kent's casual endearment, echoing in his head over and over again.


	20. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are short interlude scenes. The first takes place sometime before 2x7, Lineage, and the second takes place shortly after 2x8, Ryan.

Martha's first thought was that she was a bit young to be in menopause.

Not _terribly_ young. It wasn't impossible. But when the missed period was followed up by nausea three mornings in a row, she decided to take a test. The second blue line wasn't exactly faint.

Her spike of joy immediately gave way to fear. She'd had dozens of dreams just like this, in the years after she and Jonathan married. Once it became clear that she'd never see them manifest in real life, she'd sometimes spend hours crying when she woke up after one of those dreams, the pain as deep as it had been on the day of each of her three miscarriages.

So, of course, she didn't tell Jonathan or Clark. Her past miscarriages had been in the very early stages, within the first couple of weeks, but even after those first weeks passed, she couldn't bring herself to tell them.

Keeping secrets was easy. Their whole family did it all the time. Keeping secrets from each other, though, that was more difficult. She didn't exactly feel guilty—it wasn't as if she was going to withhold the information forever, and she wasn't lying to them. But it was still challenging.

She longed to talk to them about how this could even be possible. Martha had given up hope of getting pregnant quite a long time ago, and she'd even been okay with it. Talking with other women struggling with infertility, she knew that adopting kids didn't always quite make up for the ones they could never have biologically, but in her case it really had. Clark was hers.

But they'd never adopted a second child to give Clark a sibling. They'd been too scared to, given Clark's secret.

And as for this child, they'd have to keep Clark's abilities secret from him until he was old enough to handle them. But they'd eventually tell him the truth.

It would drive the kid crazy if they didn't, constantly suspecting his family was keeping secrets from him.

* * *

He'd tried to fight it for so long.

Lex could have dealt with a few unexplained incidents, especially if they had nothing to do with him. But then there was the way Clark insisted, so quickly, that he and Lex couldn't be biological siblings, even in the face of strong evidence they might be. Then Lex was kidnapped, knocked out (yet another concussion), and nearly killed by his father's old lover, but somehow mysteriously survived—and Clark had gotten incredibly defensive when Lex had tried to speculate how. Then when Lex suggested that Ryan might have some kind of powers, Clark had accused him harshly of trying to take advantage of the kid.

Something was going on. Something that involved Clark, for sure, and maybe Lex, and definitely those meteor rocks, and probably that metal octagon—everyone was so weird about it—and possibly Level 3 . . .

The Kents obviously knew what it was, and they were _lying_ to him. Lying over, and over, and over . . . And he couldn't take it anymore.

He didn't want to withdraw from them. He needed Clark's friendship, Mrs. Kent's care, and Mr. Kent's kindness far too desperately. His dark inner counterpart laughed and taunted him that he just wanted to be friends with them to keep gathering data for his investigations, but it was easy to ignore, given the fact that Lex would happily have died for them if he needed to.

Still, he couldn't deny, even to himself, that there was secrets being kept. It was frustrating, and aside from that, it hurt.

He wouldn't send investigators after the Kents again. He had promised Mrs. Kent he never would, and he would keep his promise—he owed them that much. But those initial investigations had yielded enough to give him some things to think about, and it seemed like at least once a week, something strange and unexplained happened that added to his knowledge.

Clark's friend Chloe had set up her "Wall of Weird" in the room where the Torch was printed. Lex could do the same kind of thing: keep his evidence all in one place. Some of his was in the form of physical items rather than newspaper clippings, though, so rather than a wall, he set aside a room of his house to display mementos of the things he'd learned.

As far as Lex knew, Clark wasn't upset with Chloe for her Wall of Weird, which meant he shouldn't be upset with Lex for his. Lex wasn't confident about that, though. Clark wasn't on Chloe's Wall of Weird—which Lex always wondered about—but he was quite prevalent in Lex's ongoing "investigations."

So Lex kept the room locked, and he didn't give anyone access, not even his servants. He was the only one who held a key to his Room of Obsession.

The darker piece of his soul was happy when he spent time in that room. It didn't torment him or berate him when he was in there, or for the hours after he left. It almost just . . . hummed.

The room held not only his curiosity at the strange events in Smallville, but his pain over the fact that the Kents clearly knew more than they were willing to tell him, despite claiming he was part of their family. More importantly, he hid away his anger in the room—anger over the lies, and the way Clark treated him when he asked questions.

If he couldn't fight the darkness, the best he could do was contain it. With that anger contained, it was like he had put a cage around his dark side. He could carry on in his every day life, even keep his friendship with the Kents, and no one would have to know the difference.

In the meantime, he focused, like he usually did, on making sure his priorities were as different from his father's as he could manage to make them. He played the continuous chess game against his father to keep the plant running and his employees cared for. He fought off a corrupt mayor to protect Smallville and its citizens. He helped Clark with his encounters with the weird, unexplained, and dangerous.

And all the while, he documented the evidence, quietly fearing that whatever the Kents were keeping from him would turn out to be a greater danger than he—or they—expected.


	21. Bad day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during 2x9, Dichotic. I'm using some direct quotes. I own nothing.

Chapter 21 - Bad day

Between the long hours Lex spent helping Clark find a brain specialist for his friend Ryan, dealing the fallout from his own kidnapping the week before, the endless daily arguments he was having with his father, and setting up his Room of Obsession to appease his inner darkness, Lex found himself falling behind in his work at the plant. For a few days, he ended up canceling all appointments and asking security to keep out all visitors just so that he could get some work done before the charity auction.

The night terrors were especially bad the night before the event.

Lex had had night terrors on and off throughout his life, ever since Julian's death. Thankfully, he had never had them while staying with the Kents. He wondered if his friendship with the Kents would have decreased their frequency, if not for the sheer number of near-death experiences and concussions he'd had over the past year and a half.

He woke up with as painful a headache as he'd ever had, other than on mornings following a concussion. It pounded continuously despite his overdose of painkillers, so after he got dressed and ready for the charity auction, he allowed himself a few minutes to rest his eyes.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up. Almost an hour had passed. The pain in his head reignited, worse than before the painkillers, as his heart pounded while he hurried out of the door.

In principle, he wanted to be at the charity auction. It was something his father would only do for good PR, but at some point in the past few years, Lex had started caring about the causes represented. Mr. and Mrs. Kent had listened with quite a lot of interest when Lex had talked to them about the event a couple of days before, and had said in so many words that they were proud of him.

The only problem was that most of the people who attended the auction would only be doing so for the PR—and it would be painfully obvious that that was the only reason they were there. But skipping the event and making a quiet, anonymous contribution from the comfort of the mansion would spur an argument with his father that he didn't want to have, so he was going.

He stopped by the Talon on the way out. He'd told Lana he would, and seeing her was always a breath of fresh air. It was a comfort to remember that at least one of his business partners cared more about goodness and honesty than making a profit regardless of what it took. He needed that, no matter how late he was running.

But he'd misremembered Lana's schedule. She didn't have a free period from school today—that was tomorrow. It was disappointing, but made his visit quicker. He was in and out of the Talon in five minutes.

Lex fielded angry phone calls on the way back to his car, his head pounding harder than ever.

Then he spotted a meter maid beside his car.

He didn't have time to deal with the ticket. It wasn't about the money—it was about the time, and his pride, and the principle of the thing. Lex argued, until the man made some comment about how some people "actually work for a living."

That's when Lex lost it. Next thing he knew, he was smashing the windows of the meter maid's car with a golf club.

The outburst felt so out of character for him. Not necessarily the part where he took out his anger on someone—he did that all the time—but the part where his temper ran hot instead of cold. Normally, he dealt mercilessly with people who threatened him or people he cared, but he did it about much more indirectly, through threats, blackmail, and clever manipulation. Blackmail was somehow both dirtier and cleaner than resorting to vandalism.

Driving away from the scene, Lex knew he was in trouble. They probably wouldn't give him any jail time, but a judge would probably know that fining him was a useless response—maybe he'd get community service. He didn't know if he could stand that kind of humiliation, even if it was deserved.

His cell phone started to buzz a few minutes later. His father somehow already knew about the incident. He started ranting and yelling about how bad it would be for their family's image, what a disappointment Lex was, all the usual fare. That kind of scolding barely stung anymore. Lex was only half paying attention when his father let something slip about how he was struggling to get work done because his assistant had left early to go to the hospital.

"Wait, you mean Mrs. Kent? Is she okay?"

"Oh, she's fine. Apparently her husband broke his leg doing some farm work."

Lex hung up—he'd take the punishment for that later—and pulled over to the side of the road. He dialed another number.

"Change of plans," Lex said. "I'm not going to make it to the auction after all."

* * *

From inside the hospital examination room, where Jonathan struggled to gather his things while stubbornly refusing help, Martha overheard Lex unwittingly insult Dr. Bryce by offering her the phone number of a specialist in Metropolis. More concerning, though, was the conversation she overheard between Clark and Lex—something about Lex taking a nine iron to a meter maid's car.

That didn't sound like Lex. God knew the poor kid wasn't perfect, but even a few months ago, when he'd laid out a long list of his sins to her, arbitrary violence wasn't on the list. If anything, he could sometimes err on the side of cold and calculating, too unemotional in his decision making.

She thought back to what she'd promised him after his confessions. He'd told her that a darkness lived in him, a darkness he couldn't always control. He feared it would someday take over, and she'd sworn to him that she wouldn't let it.

Maybe the time had come for her to make good on her promise.

Clark helped Jonathan out to the car—really, just followed him, as Jonathan was still refusing help—while Martha hung back to talk to Lex.

"Come by the house, Lex. I'll expect to see you within the hour."

Lex's voice caught. "Ah, Mrs. Kent—"

"You don't have any appointments, and you're caught up on work, according to your father."

He raised his eyebrows. "I . . ."

"One hour, Lex."

Martha headed out to the car ahead of him, and considered what she needed to do. She knew how she'd deal with Clark misbehaving in a way she thought was uncharacteristic. She'd sit him down and ask as many questions as she could to try to understand where the behavior was coming from. If it turned out to be some deeper issue at play, she'd comfort him and help him work through it, and Jonathan would come in and offer his advice as well, along with warning him sternly against repeating his actions.

If it really was just a bad decision, though, she'd tell Clark she was disappointed, and then make him explain his choices to Jonathan in detail. Then, Jonathan would lecture him—depending on the severity of the infraction, Clark might or might not get through that part without tears. On the rare occasion when it was still needed after the lecture, either Martha or Jonathan would give him extra chores or ground him. It worked well. Clark rarely made the same mistake twice.

She wasn't sure if she should, or could, use the same approach with Lex. Not because he was too old—given his emotional maturity, the poor kid could use a second shot at being a teenager. But Jonathan wasn't in a state to be able to give a lecture if it was needed, and he didn't quite have the rapport with Lex that would necessary to give it, so if she thought he needed to be scolded, she would have to be the one to do it. That would have been fine with her, but it seemed like an overstepping of her place. As much as she was starting to consider Lex to be her son, she doubted he considered her to be his mother.

But she could still talk to him and try to figure out what happened.

Once Martha was satisfied that Jonathan was settled comfortably in bed, and Clark had gone out to the Talon, Martha settled on the couch to think while she waited for Lex.

The knock on the door came only a moment later.

"Hi, Lex." In her contemplations, she almost forgot to embrace him as he entered the house. He hugged back, but remained stiffer than usual in her arms this time—he seemed to know he was in trouble.

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Kent?"

"Well, that's what I'm trying to figure out." She sat down on the couch, and gestured for him to do the same.

He did, albeit quite hesitantly.

"What happened this morning?"

His face turned pink. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Disappointment and frustration flooded through her. "And I thought you were past lying to me."

He sighed. "I was having a bad day."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

She slid a bit closer, taking his hand. "I want to help you. You told me once that there's . . . a darkness that lives inside you, and that you sometimes have a hard time controlling it."

"Oh! No. That . . . that had nothing to do with this. I was just angry."

She put conscious effort into making sure her sigh of relief was inaudible to him. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. But in that case, it means it was _you_ that did it. You made the choice."

He straightened up a little in his seat. "Are you upset with me?" His voice sounded more curious than concerned.

She chose her words carefully. "You're an amazing young man, Lex. You're brave and noble, you fight for the people you care about, and you do incredible work. But then you do this." She shook her head. "I'm more disappointed than upset."

It was almost surreal. She _watched_ him deflate.

He only slouched a little, but his head hung, and his eyes fell closed, squinting for a half-second as though he were in severe pain. His hand went limp in hers, and when he opened his eyes, they shone.

Maternal instinct kicked in. He did _not_ need a scolding. Not this time.

"Oh, come here," she said, and scooted closer to him, pulling his head down onto her shoulder. His arms wrapped loosely around her as she alternately rubbed his back and stroked his head. "You know I love you, sweetie. Even when I'm disappointed."

He pulled back for a moment, searching her eyes. It wasn't the first time she'd told him she loved him, but he still seemed to be having a hard time believing it, especially when he made a mistake. So she concentrated on the love and care she felt for him, letting it show on her face.

He must have been able to see it. He melted back into her arms again, this time holding onto her tighter than he ever had. She smiled, but readied herself to be stern again if he needed it.

When his grip loosened, she asked, "What were you angry about?"

He was silent for a long time before he lifted his head from her shoulder and spoke, avoiding her gaze. "I employ 2500 people in this town, but by the way people talk, you'd think I'd enslaved them." His voice was soft, but there were undertones that reflected his rage.

She could tell him until she was blue in the face that he wasn't like his father, and that her whole family believed he was a good man. They'd all told him, but it wasn't enough. For all her striving to validate his struggles, it wouldn't be enough today. He was angry, enough to have lost control.

And suddenly Martha knew. It wouldn't be a permanent fix, but it would help him for now—he needed an outlet.

"Lex, have you ever pitched silage?"

* * *

Lex had no idea how Mr. Kent did this every day. Pitching silage was backbreaking work—his arms and back and legs ached, his lungs burned, and he was already sweating buckets through the set of work clothes Clark had lent him. Mercifully, though, his headache was completely gone.

When Mrs. Kent had him change clothes and took him out to the silo, he wasn't sure what she was trying to do. She asked him nicely to help out, and he was happy to oblige, having no idea how exhausting it was going to be.

A few minutes in, when he was already gasping for breath, a new idea occurred to him. This was a penance. She was upset with him, and she was making him pay for his sins. He would have stopped as soon as the realization hit him, except that if she was trying to punish him, he deserved that and more. So he doubled his efforts, until the searing heat in his muscles wouldn't let him work any harder.

It felt like hours had passed when she came out to check on him, by which time sweat dripped from his head and down the sides of his face.

"Doing okay, Lex?"

He stopped for long enough to catch his breath. "How long have I been out here?"

"About a half an hour."

He slumped down, his hands dropping to his knees. "Are you still upset with me?"

"Do you think I'm making you do this because I'm upset?"

He straightened back up, wincing. "Why _am_ I doing this?"

"How's the anger?"

His mind replayed the scene with the meter maid again, words that had made his heart rate triple just an hour ago. It didn't triple now. In fact, it barely responded. No adrenaline, no blurriness in the corners of his vision. No physical response to the anger at all.

_Oh._

Mrs. Kent smiled. "Finish the job, and then come shower in the house. You're staying for dinner. I'm making a pie, too."

Her tone didn't give him any room to argue. "Okay."

"Slow down a little. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Okay."

"I'm not upset with you, Lex, but I do want you to think about how you want to answer me the next time I ask you about something that happened."

Lex rolled his eyes. "Yes, _Mom_."

The words slipped out before he could think about them.

He'd meant it as a tease, but the slight pause in her expression made him realize what he'd just said. "I, ah—"

"Don't you roll your eyes at me." She crossed her arms. "And I don't like that tone, Alexander, I don't care how old you are."

His voice caught in his throat.

"Finish the job. Come back inside when you're done."

She turned and walked away, leaving him struggling to hold back a smile.


	22. Anniversary Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains direct quotes from 2x12, Insurgence. I do not own.

"Thanks again for this, Lex."

"Any time, Mr. Kent." Lex settled into his seat in the helicopter as they took off to pick up Mrs. Kent for their dinner reservation.

Lex hadn't been sure if they would accept his anniversary gift, and he was thankful that Mr. Kent had taken the time over the summer to explain his feelings about large gifts. It meant Lex was able to put forward the offer in a way that would respect Mr. Kent's views, giving him plenty of space to decline.

Good communication paid off, and in the end, Mr. Kent had accepted the offer. It was the only way he'd get to see his wife on their anniversary, since Lex's father had made her come to work.

Lex hadn't expected his father to go into LuthorCorp on a Sunday. He'd even sent in a team to bug the office building today, which he'd had to call off once he found out his father and Mrs. Kent were in the building. He tried not to think about it while sitting next to Mr. Kent. He knew that kind of deceptive, underhanded espionage was the kind of thing that would disgust the Kents—it might have even been enough to make Mr. Kent give up on him, if not Mrs. Kent. His inner darkness, of course, had loved it.

At the time he'd called for the surveillance, he hadn't felt like he had much of a choice. He'd just lost a 150 million dollar contract. Despite feeling even dirtier than his usual moves in their never-ending game, it was really the only way to gain back the advantage his father had over him. Lex had both selfish and unselfish reasons to want to protect his plant. Mrs. Kent had even told him that that it was alright to have both, that the right thing to do was still right. And keeping control of the plant in his hands, rather than his father's, was definitely the right thing to do. 2500 employees depended on that.

The Kents hadn't talked to Lex as much as he would have liked on the right and wrong _way_ to do things, though.

It didn't matter anymore, anyway. He'd called off the surveillance project, at least for today—the team would have cleared out of the building long before his father and Mrs. Kent arrived, and now Lex was getting to bring together the couple he cared about most on their anniversary.

Mr. Kent cleared his throat. "How are things going with Helen?"

"Great, actually. Thanks for the advice last week." He and Helen gone through a bit of an argument the week before, since Lex had discovered she'd met with his father and lied about it, but things were much better since Lex had apologized for invading her privacy and not giving her a chance to explain herself. Bringing her favorite flowers, chocolate, and a hand-written apology letter had helped. It had gone against his instincts to keep the gifts simple and sentimental rather than lavish and expensive, but Mr. Kent insisted the latter would come off as bribery.

Mr. Kent raised his eyebrows. "You really like her?"

"Yeah, I do." More than he'd ever liked a girl, though he wasn't ready to admit that out loud yet. Most of his others had been one-night stands and prostitutes, though he hadn't hired a prostitute since meeting the Kents. Then there had been Victoria, but that had been for business. He pushed Victoria out of his mind as well—he didn't think Mr. Kent would approve of any of that. He didn't seem like the type to understand corporate games.

"We'd love to meet her sometime."

"You've met her."

"Yes, as our doctor. We'd love to get to know her as your girlfriend."

Lex glanced up at him. He didn't have a family to introduce Helen to—his father didn't count—but he'd love for the Kents to play a similar role, if he dared to hope that that was what Mr. Kent was suggesting. "Sure. Things are a little busy at the plant right now, though."

"Yeah? How's work going?"

"It's not bad. We secured the contracts for the Kawache caves."

Mr. Kent stiffened, his expression clouding.

Lex swallowed—it was the face Clark always wore when Lex talked about any of Smallville's mysteries. He scrambled to change the subject. "Um, other than that, it's mostly the usual. Last night I discovered my father's been spying on me, that was new."

"Oh yeah, Clark told me about that contract you lost. Sorry to hear about that."

Lex searched his eyes for some hint of accusation, mockery, or sarcasm. He couldn't find anything. "We'll bounce back, but it's quite a hit."

"What are you going to do about it?"

He wasn't about to tell Mr. Kent about his own espionage. "Ah, I don't know yet."

Mr. Kent let his breath out, settling back into his seat. "I don't envy you, Lex."

They made small talk on and off for the rest of the ride, about the plant, the farm, and Clark. Mr. Kent's face lit up when he talked about his son in a way that was so opposite to the way Lex's father looked when he talked about Lex, it made Lex's chest hurt.

By the time they arrived, police were crowding the LuthorCorp building.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Lex's father had been taken hostage, along with Mrs. Kent, by a team of people trying to break into the vaults. Fear and guilt gripped Lex, and he stepped away.

He called the team he'd had bugging the offices, demanding to know what they were doing. He couldn't reason with them, couldn't negotiate. He found himself trying to bribe them for the contents of the vault as well as for his father and Mrs. Kent to be released.

The darkness in him demanded to know why he'd switched to bribing rather than threats and blackmail. Meanwhile, he felt sick at the fact that he was bothering to try to negotiate for the contents of the vault when Mrs. Kent's life was at stake.

His last desperate words to the team were, "Just don't hurt them," but the man only hung up. The edges of Lex's vision started to go fuzzy as he silently hyperventilated.

"Don't hurt who, Lex?"

His heart sank even further as he turned. Mr. Kent would kill him if he knew what was really going on, and Lex couldn't exactly blame him for that. But right now, he needed to live for long enough to make sure his father and Mrs. Kent survived this. "Mr. Kent, whatever I'm doing is in the best interest of your wife and my father, believe me."

Mr. Kent grabbed his arm hard enough that it would have hurt if his adrenaline weren't running so high. "What do you know?"

"I—I don't—"

" _Answer me_." His hold on Lex's arm tightened, enough that it did hurt.

It was over. The home-cooked dinners, the mom hugs, the comfort and advice, Clark's friendship, the feeling like he had a family—gone with one bad move. Mrs. Kent had said she wouldn't abandon him because he made a mistake, but even if she lived through this, he couldn't imagine her forgiving him this time.

"I'll leave your family alone," Lex said. "And Mrs. Kent should quit her job with my father, I warned her—"

"I'm not going to ask again."

Lex swallowed hard and spoke in a low voice. "I sent in a team to bug the LuthorCorp building. If my father was going to be listening in on me, but I couldn't spy on him, the war against him would already be lost."

"Clark said you lost one contract."

"It was a 150 million dollar deal."

Mr. Kent didn't react to the number at all. He also didn't let go of Lex's arm. "Go on."

"I called off the surveillance team as soon as I found out your wife and my father were going to be in the building. But they had other ideas." He could feel his head and face starting to sweat. "You have to believe that I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Just another casualty in your fight."

Normally, words like that would have stirred Lex's anger, spurring him to defend himself, to insist on his innocence. Today, he felt more like crying. Usually, the casualties only happened when Lex lost a battle with his father, but today was different. This was his fault and his alone. Somehow, _sorry_ didn't feel like enough. "I'm doing everything I can to secure their release."

"Oh, I'm sure you've done plenty." The vice-grip tightened yet again.

"You think I want this?" Lex wrenched his arm away. "You think I wouldn't make peace with my father if I could?"

Mr. Kent's glare was venomous.

"I _know_ people get hurt in our crossfire. If I could stop fighting, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But he's bound and determined to ruin my life by threatening everything and everyone I care about, and I'll never . . . I'll never let him . . ."

Mr. Kent just kept shaking his head.

Lex's head lowered. Today's incident was _his_ fault, not his father's. "Like I said, I'll stay away from your family. You don't have to worry about that anymore."

With one last glare, Mr. Kent stormed away.

Lex watched him go, letting his breath out. His arm throbbed, but he didn't let himself rub the pain away. He deserved so much worse.


	23. Emotions and Choices

Jonathan had never been so worried in his life.

He believed in Clark, and he knew how tough his wife could be, so some part of him had total faith that everything would work out just fine. Still, his fifteen year old son was jumping from the top of one skyscraper to another, in order to save his wife from a group of angry gunmen. It was enough to give him a heart attack.

If only he'd held his ground and insisted his family never got involved with the Luthors! They'd never be in this mess. But no, it hadn't been enough for the Luthors to take hold of their town, transform their economy to depend on them, and pollute their land with their refinery chemicals. Lex had had to worm his way into their lives, into their hearts, into their _family_ . . . and then he'd done this.

He and Martha had been in the unique position of being able to choose their family. They had chosen each other, of course, but they had also chosen Clark, and as Martha was fond of saying, he had chosen them.

Choosing Clark had hardly been without its dangers. For starters, dealing with a five-year-old with supernatural levels of strength and speed who was having a tantrum . . . well, it didn't come without sacrifices. There was also always the fear of losing Clark to someone who knew his secret, as well as the possibility of people using Jonathan and Martha's vulnerability against Clark. Still, they'd chosen him—and Jonathan would never change that choice.

They'd chosen Lex, too. It had been over six months since Jonathan had agreed with Martha to consider Lex part of their family. Lex posed a different kind of danger, one that Jonathan had had much less time to think through. Jonathan didn't really believe that Lex would willingly betray them or purposefully put them in danger, but the corporate games he and his father played put the entire town at risk, especially those who openly stood by Lex.

The difference was that the danger Clark posed was never Clark's fault. Lex, on other hand, with his public corporate battles . . .

Jonathan wouldn't stand for it. He'd go over there and give Lex a piece of his mind—it was long overdue. His fists itched to teach the kid a different kind of lesson about endangering his family, but he'd settle for reaming him out until Lex felt the full weight of what he'd caused, until guilt burned out his insides and leaked from his eyes. He knew he could probably bring him to tears with words alone.

Jonathan turned and started toward Lex, but stopped short when he saw him.

Lex's face was pale, his head was glistening with sweat, and he paced, pulling out his phone every few seconds, staring at the screen, then shoving it back into his pocket. His eyes were bloodshot, and his arms shook.

Jonathan froze. A vision suddenly filled his mind: Clark pacing and trembling like that, the way he always did when he was wracked with unbearable guilt or conflict. Jonathan knew what he would have done for Clark in that situation. He'd have sat him down and talked him through whatever he was feeling. He might have gently chided him for anything he had done that was wrong, but he would have allowed Clark's conscience to do most of the work, and made sure Clark knew he was loved and forgiven.

Yes, there had been times when he'd made Clark cry with a good hard scolding, too. But it was always out of love, and only when Clark needed it. Never when he looked like _that._

Jonathan stepped back away from Lex. He couldn't yell at him, but he could always ignore him. They could be rid of the Luthors so easily. Jonathan was sure he could convince Martha to quit her job after this. And Lex had promised to stay away, only moments ago. They could leave it at that.

But as Jonathan glanced back over at Lex, he couldn't unsee what he'd started to see through Martha's eyes. Lionel's abuse, the intentional withholding of love from his son. Lex's brokenness and desperation to be loved. Jonathan didn't want to think about what Lex might do someday, to try to earn his father's love.

Jonathan sighed. This whole thing had happened because Lex was fighting his father. Most danger to others had been in the crossfire, which would put both of them at fault in Jonathan's eyes, but Lex had a point, about how he couldn't stop fighting. Martha had fully convinced Jonathan the closure of the plant was Lionel's doing, and since then, Lex had just been fighting to keep it afloat. Fighting to protect the Kents and everyone else.

Bugging offices, blackmail, deception—Jonathan didn't pretend to understand corporate games. All of it made him a little sick, but he knew what it was like to make a tough moral decision, and he wasn't exactly upset with Lex for trying to spy on Lionel. He was upset with the outcome.

Jonathan wanted nothing more than to put the blame on Lex. And yes, Lex had made a mistake. But his greatest mistake was in trusting the wrong people, and in withholding information from Jonathan. He couldn't possibly have known that Lionel and Martha would be in the building, or that the team would take them hostage. The outcome of Lex's bad decision was hurting the Luthors as much as it was hurting the Kents.

Somehow, knowing all of that somehow didn't ease Jonathan's anger with Lex. But Jonathan had learned a lot about what family was and wasn't over the years. One thing, he knew for certain: it wasn't conditional.

Could he really be offering unconditional love to _Lex Luthor?_

Jonathan shook his head, grimacing. It wasn't a question of whether he could. He already had. Which meant that somehow, he had to forgive this kid. The son of the man who'd threatened his family, cheated his friends, and tried to destroy his town.

Martha was always reminding him that Lex was the one fighting Lionel. Jonathan supposed he should probably be proud of Lex for that, not angry, but he just couldn't get himself there.

But pride was an emotion. Anger was an emotion. Forgiveness was a choice.

And love? That wasn't just a choice. That was an _action_.

He could forgive. He had to. It would take time, and a lot of talking, but time and talking had taken them quite a long way already, and Martha always had a way of helping him work his way through his anger. He could trust her.

Assuming she made it out of the building okay.

Jonathan swallowed hard and glanced back at the LuthorCorp building. That's when Clark and Martha ran out of the front doors.

* * *

Lex's mind raced as Clark exited the building along with Mrs. Kent and Lex's father. Lex knew that a window had been broken on the thirtieth floor, but other than that, there'd been no breaching of the perimeter. He wanted to rush toward Clark, to demand to know how he'd gotten into the building, but he could save it for his Room of Obsession. He had just promised he'd stay away from the Kents.

So he approached his father instead. He was ready for a verbal lashing he'd never forget, but it never came. His father was curt and to the point, and he announced that he'd be moving out of the mansion.

Lex knew he should be thankful, but somehow the hands-off approach left him hurting even more than usual. It made no sense, but pain was often like that—it didn't always seem to match what caused it. Like how he bore no lasting marks from the time his father had beaten him with an epee at nineteen, but he still had a scar from the time his father had split his lip at seventeen—and that was a single punch. An extended scolding could leave him with only a mild sting, but a few sharp words could keep him awake all night.

His father walked away, and Lex was left standing alone, feeling like a lost child. He turned slowly to see Mr. and Mrs. Kent embracing, his hands running through her hair. They pulled back and smiled at each other, the love in their eyes radiant, then Mrs. Kent put an arm around Clark.

Lex knew he'd be held to his promise to stay away, but suddenly he couldn't imagine his life without them. Being able to talk and laugh with Clark was the closest thing he'd ever had to real friendship in his life, and it kept his darkness at bay. Mrs. Kent's comfort, encouragement, and even chastising filled his heart with light, strengthening him against the darkness. And Mr. Kent was quite literally the first man he'd ever felt he could look up to.

To lose all of them at once . . . The last time he'd had to fathom such emptiness was when his mother died a few months after Julian.

Watching the Kents walk away with their arms around each other, he suddenly flashed back to the last time there'd been a hostage situation in a LuthorCorp building. His father had berated him, then held him stiffly for the benefit of the cameras, and Lex had looked over at the Kents to see a similar scene to today.

Watching the Kents' genuine love and affection for each other while his father held his love back from Lex, right at the surface of his skin, had been a unique and excruciating form of pain. Today was another taste of the same, and somehow it hurt even more, knowing he'd come so close to having everything he wanted.

But he'd wrecked everything, just like he knew he would. He could feel the presence of the darkness inside him, but it didn't say anything. It didn't have to.

Lex watched them go as if in slow motion, daggers piercing his heart. A burning weight pressed into his chest, and the debilitating heat spread through his veins to the rest of his body.

Then Mrs. Kent looked over.

She glanced over her shoulder at Lex, and the three of them stopped. They broke apart, and Clark and Jonathan turned to face Lex as well.

"Lex. Come here," Mrs. Kent said.

Lex's heart jolted, and he froze.

"Come here."

He made himself walk toward them, his feet feeling like lead.

As soon as he was in reach, Mrs. Kent threw her arms around him. Only when his arms fully enveloped her did he realize how hard he was shaking. "I was so scared, Mrs. Kent."

"I know, sweetie." She pulled back, and Clark took her place, embracing him tightly. That was new—Clark had never hugged him before.

Mr. Kent had mostly been staring at the ground, but he looked up and met Lex's eyes when Clark let go.

Lex struggled to pull in a breath. "Mr. Kent—"

"Let's save it for when we get back to the house." He clapped Lex on the shoulder. "We'll talk then. As a family."

"Yes, sir," Lex said, and the world swam.

Mrs. Kent smiled and put one arm around her husband and one around Lex, Clark wrapped his arm around Lex from the other side, and the four of them walked together.


	24. Advanced Morality

Dinner was a quiet affair. Martha wondered if it would have been if Lex hadn't been there. Clark sometimes liked to rehash his adventures, and he couldn't talk much about what he'd done with Lex listening. But examining Clark's face, he didn't appear to be bursting with untold stories. He just looked tired.

She was, too. Lex had warned her that working with Lionel would be endangering herself, but she couldn't have known the type of danger to which she'd be subjecting her family until today, when she'd seen the contents of Lionel's vault. Bars and bars of glowing meteor rock. It looked so pure—refined. Not to mention those files, and the metal octagon—she still hadn't told her family that she had it. Considering the pregnancy, that made two secrets she was keeping from them.

Jonathan and Lex looked tired, too, but to her, the fatigue felt anything but somber. There was a peaceful joy in the air—gratitude to be alive, safe, and together.

As Clark and Lex took their dishes to the counter, Jonathan announced, "Okay, Clark, you've got school in the morning. Go on up to bed."

Clark nodded, gave Jonathan and Martha each a hug and a brilliant smile, and Lex a clap on the shoulder, and left the kitchen.

"Lex," Martha said, "you must be exhausted. Why don't you—"

"Wait in the guest room," Jonathan said. "We'll call you down when we're ready to talk."

She gave him a curious look, but didn't argue. She'd already prepped the guest room for him before dinner, so there was no need to follow him up, either. She squeezed Lex's arm as he passed, giving him a gentle smile, which he returned with a broken look.

They washed and dried the dishes in silence. Martha could practically see the wheels in Jonathan's mind turning—clearly, he needed the quiet time working mindlessly with his hands to process what he needed to say.

Finally, they retired to the couch, where Martha couldn't wait any longer. "What's going on, Jonathan?"

He rubbed his face. "Lex sent those guys into the building."

Martha blinked. She knew the corporate games between Lex and Lionel could be brutal, but she hadn't thought Lex would resort to those kinds of measures. "To break open the vault?"

"No, no. He said they were supposed to be planting bugs in the building."

"Oh." That was less surprising. Clark had mentioned that Lionel was spying on Lex. "The surveillance team turned on him?"

"I guess so. If it weren't for him, none of this would have happened."

"Did you tell him that?"

"No."

She let out a sigh of relief.

"But I almost did. I was gonna yell at him, I wanted . . ."

Martha recognized the distress in her husband's voice, and she put a hand on his arm, stroking softly until his breathing slowed a little.

"I was going over to yell at him, but then I saw the look on his face, and . . . that wasn't the face of someone who needed to be told to feel guilty. So I held back, and I thought about the things my parents taught me about family."

"And you realized you need to forgive him."

Jonathan winced. "I'm so angry with him, Martha. I still want to go up there and beat him."

Martha took his hand in hers. Neither of them really believed that violence was the best solution to most problems, but violent tendencies ran through Jonathan's blood, and his temper ran hot. Early in their marriage, she'd encouraged him to be honest with her if he was feeling tempted to hurt someone physically. Talking about it helped to keep him from doing it.

"Help me, Martha. How do I forgive him?"

She looked away, considering. Then she looked him right in the eyes. "Forgive him for what?"

His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"What did Lex do wrong today?"

"He put you in danger!"

"No, that was the result, and it's why you're angry, but it's not what he did. What did he actually do?"

Jonathan sighed heavily. "Uh . . . he was planting bugs to spy on his father."

"I'm not sure if that's wrong, considering who Lionel Luthor is."

"I don't know, either," Jonathan grumbled.

"So what else did he do?"

"He trusted the wrong people."

She shook her head. "That was a mistake. But it's definitely not immoral."

"Okay, well, he didn't tell me right away that he knew what was going on in the building. I found out because I overheard him talking on the phone about it."

There it was. " _That_ was bad. What does he think he did wrong?"

"I don't know. He thinks this whole thing is his fault."

That wasn't surprising. The last time Martha had seen Lex drowning in his own guilt, he'd spilled a lengthy confessional of everything he'd done that he thought was wrong for the past year. Some of his confessions were for things that obviously weren't his fault, some were morally gray, some were things he was clearly blowing out of proportion, and only a few were for real transgressions.

On that day, his real concern had been the controlling darkness inside of him—not what he'd done, but the lack of control he felt. At that time, it had been enough to confirm her love for him and forgiveness of his faults generally, rather than trying to pinpoint specific wrongs to justify, excuse, or forgive.

Today was different. Lex needed to know how to handle these situations in the future. "He's doing the best he can, but the only person who's ever taught Lex anything about right and wrong is his father. His mother died before he ever had to make any difficult decisions. We can help him."

"You want us to try to teach a 22-year-old man basic morality?"

"No, I want to teach him _advanced_ morality. Emotionally, he's still a kid. He needs to know he's forgiven, but it's more than that. Some of this is his fault, and we'll forgive him for that because we love him. And some of it is _not_ his fault, and wouldn't really need forgiveness, if it weren't for the guilt he feels. He needs to know the difference."

"Okay. So we talk to him, we explain what was right and wrong. And then what, we just forget about it and let it go? That's it?"

"Like you said, he's 22. We can't exactly punish him."

"We probably could," Jonathan muttered.

She knew he was right, but it wasn't worth contemplating until they knew more. "We only punish Clark if we think it will help him learn. I think Lex learned a lot from natural consequences today. Let's hear him out before we even think about trying to add to that."

"Okay."

"And if you get frustrated, try to think what you'd say to Clark in the same situation. You'd remind him you love him, and that you forgive him, and that you're proud of him."

Something shifted in his eyes, resolving. "Okay."

"You can do this."

Jonathan took a deep breath. "I think I'm ready."

* * *

Lex stopped by the bathroom to wash his face and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked awful. His eyes were red and the skin around them was baggy, like he hadn't slept in days, yet he didn't exactly feel tired. Honestly, he felt like he would never be able to sleep again.

He stepped into the guest room. Mrs. Kent had put out a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants on the bed for him to change into, which was a relief, since the slacks and long coat were becoming pretty uncomfortable. He picked them up to realize they weren't the same old set she had lent him the last couple of times he stayed over—they were new. Beside the folded clothes was a packaged toothbrush.

He blinked back tears. He'd almost gotten Mrs. Kent killed today, and she didn't even know it—and she must have bought these before any of this happened. Her kindness hurt, and all of Mr. Kent's words about small, sentimental gifts being the most powerful suddenly made sense to him.

If she knew what he did, she never would have been so kind to him. Knowing that, he couldn't accept it. He set the clothes and toothbrush on the dresser, kicked off his shoes, and lay on the bed in his long suit jacket.

Lex had been surprised before by how much the Kents could forgive, and it wasn't the first time one of their family members had been in danger because of one of Lex's fights, but this was the most direct role he'd ever played in causing the danger. Mr. Kent had said they would discuss things as a family, but Lex really had no way of knowing what that entailed.

Lex knew to expect from his own father when they encountered each other again in private, but he didn't know what to expect from the Kents. He didn't think Mr. Kent would strike him, but having seen the fury in his eyes earlier, he really didn't know. Lex made up his mind that whatever they did to him, it was worth it, if they allowed him to remain in their family. Wasn't that why he took what his father dished out? On the off chance that this time, he'd have completed his penance for Julian, and his father would love him?

A light knock on the door. He stood and opened it.

Mrs. Kent stood there with a steaming mug, which she held out to him. "Thought you might like some coffee."

"I—thanks." He took the mug, then stood, frozen. More kindness he didn't deserve. He felt sick to his stomach—he didn't think he could drink it even if he wanted to, and he didn't. His nerves were alive enough without the caffeine.

"It's decaf, sweetie."

"Oh. Thanks." He still couldn't drink it.

"Why don't you get changed and then come down?"

Lex nodded, and she smiled and closed the door behind herself.


	25. Trust and Pride

Lex felt like a man walking to the gallows as he made his way down to the living room. Mrs. Kent sat on the couch in the living room, while Mr. Kent sat in the seat beside it. Mrs. Kent gestured to the space beside her. "Have a seat, sweetie."

He did, and set his coffee mug down on a coaster on the table. "I'm so sorry about today."

Mr. Kent cleared his throat. "Why are you sorry, Lex?"

Lex could feel his hands starting to sweat. Mr. Kent was going to make him say it. "It's my fault she almost got killed tonight."

"No, sweetie." Mrs. Kent shook her head. "That might have been a consequence, but it's not all your fault."

"Why don't you tell us what happened today?" Mr. Kent said.

Lex swallowed. It was against his nature to tell the truth, especially when he was at fault. In his experience, doing so could only be dangerous. Worst case, he'd end up in danger of losing something—or someone—he cared about. Even in the best case, he'd still get hit.

But the Kents had subverted all of that. They cared about honesty for its own sake. They really wouldn't stop persisting until he was honest with them, and they seemed to be able to tell when he was lying.

"I've, uh, I've talked to Mrs. Kent about it before, but there's . . . this darkness inside me. I can't always control it."

"Can you describe it?" Mr. Kent didn't sound surprised or horrified, which was a relief, though Lex realized that Mrs. Kent had probably already talked to him about it.

"It sort of talks to me. Not audibly, more like an inner voice. It tortures me, and it . . . tries to influence my decisions. A couple of times, it's taken over."

"It forced you to do something?"

"No, it forced me to feel something. When I killed Nixon, it was happy to watch him die, and . . . I felt what it felt. But sometimes, it's so strong, I'm afraid it _will_ take over and make me do something I don't want to do."

He looked up at Mr. Kent, expecting to see disgust or fear, but his expression was gentle, almost worried.

"Being with your family helps keep it quieter," Lex said softly.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." Mr. Kent smiled for a moment before returning to his concerned expression. "But I asked you what happened today. Can you start at the beginning?"

Lex nodded. "I called in a surveillance team to plant bugs in the LuthorCorp building, after my father did the same to my office in the mansion."

"Do you think that was the right thing to do?"

He looked down at his hands. "I really don't know."

"Well, was it a choice you made on your own, or something that voice told you to do?"

"It's not that simple. The voice doesn't always tell me to do the wrong thing. It just always has the wrong reasons for telling me to do things. It was happy to be spying on my father, but it's happy about anything I do to protect LexCorp. It likes having power over my father."

"I see."

Lex couldn't read his expression, so he went on. "When the surveillance team took over, I tried to negotiate with them. I offered a million dollars if they didn't hurt the hostages."

"I heard you arguing with them on the phone. Did they ask for more money?"

Lex had hoped to skip this part, but he wasn't going to get out of this without telling the whole truth. "No, I . . . I asked for the contents of the vault."

Mrs. Kent's face fell. Betrayal and hurt filled her eyes.

Lex swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat. He had thought that anything they chose to do to him would be worth if he was allowed to stay in their family, but he hadn't counted on Mrs. Kent giving him _that look_. Every muscle in his body cringed.

"Let me get this straight." Mr. Kent's voice rose just a bit. "You knew Martha and your father's lives were on the line, you had a chance to talk to the people who were trying to kill them, but instead of focusing on that, you took the opportunity to try to do exactly what they were trying to do, and steal from your father."

Shaking, Lex turned to Mrs. Kent. "I'm so, so sorry, I—"

"Do you care about Martha?" Mr. Kent asked.

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Apparently I do."

Lex winced. "I would die for her."

"Then why did you do this?"

"I—I don't know why. It just seemed like I could do both—get what my father had in the vault, and get them to safety."

Mr. Kent stood, beginning to pace. "My wife was being held at gunpoint. I was scared to death. You knew what was going on and why, and you didn't tell me. That was hard enough, Lex, but to know that _that_ was why you did it . . ."

"I—I only didn't tell you because I thought you'd be angry I sent in the surveillance team."

Mr. Kent didn't seem to hear him. "Which part of you was it? The darkness?"

Lex wanted to say yes, but they'd eventually figure out it wasn't the complete truth. "It wanted me to threaten them for the vault instead of negotiating for the hostages. We . . . we compromised."

" _Unacceptable,_ Lex."

The sting caught Lex completely off guard. It was so much worse than his father's scolding. Lex didn't realize how much he'd come to look up to Mr. Kent, or how much his approval mattered. To his horror, tears filled his eyes, though he knew they were as much from the emotional overload of the day as from the scolding.

"Jonathan," Mrs. Kent whispered, taking Lex's hand.

"I know you had to make quite a few difficult moral decisions today, but this wasn't one of them. There's no gray line here. This was _wrong._ "

Every word was a burning lash, and Lex found himself gripping Mrs. Kent's hand for dear life against the pain. He would have preferred a beating. "I'm sorry," he gasped. Lex squeezed his eyes shut too late—hot tears rolled down his cheeks, and a couple of sobs escaped his chest.

"Jonathan," Mrs. Kent said again.

"Maybe I should have trusted my gut about you, Lex."

That did him in. His tears streamed as his head fell.

"Jonathan, _look at him_." Mrs. Kent pulled Lex's head over to her shoulder. His whole body shook with silent sobs. She kissed the top of his head, then rested her cheek on it, her hand cupping the back of his neck, but he didn't register any comfort.

Lex could feel Mr. Kent's eyes watching him cry, and he clenched his teeth to stop himself, straightening up and wiping away the tears as discreetly as he could.

Mr. Kent sat next to Lex on the couch, on the opposite side as his wife. When he spoke again, his voice was surprisingly gentle: "I'm sorry, Lex, I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it."

"But you were right," Lex choked out. "I lived up to the Luthor name today."

"Breathe, Lex. Look at me."

It took Lex a moment, but he forced his eyes open and made himself look up at Mr. Kent's piercing gaze.

"You're _not_ your father, how many times do I have to tell you?" He sighed. "Did you mean to hurt Martha today?"

" _No!_ " He began to shake once again. "Th-they started to describe what was in the vault, and I—I didn't think my father should have it. I knew they were already in danger, but I didn't think I'd be putting them in any more danger by . . . by . . ."

"Okay, son, breathe." He put a hand on Lex's back. "I believe you."

A small measure of relief flooded through him.

Mr. Kent took a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry I lost my temper with you. This is a lot for me to take in. But I've gotten to know you over the past few months, and I know you're not your father. You're . . . a good man, and a great leader. You're thoughtful and generous, you've always been respectful of us and our home, and this town owes quite a lot to your bravery and brilliance. And your conscience is strong, but I think that's the hardest part for me. You did this knowing it was a bad choice."

"I know," Lex whispered.

"I am _very_ disappointed. You broke our trust, son."

Fresh tears filled his eyes. The firm reprimand burned enough, but the intimate endearment seared.

"I expect you to learn from this, but—"

"I understand _._ " His muscles clenched even more. "I'll never . . . I'll—I'll stay away from your family if you want, I'll go now—"

"Son."

Lex looked up to meet Mr. Kent's gaze. It had softened.

"You are forgiven."

Lex had no control over the fresh wave of tears. "H-how?"

"How what?"

"How can you forgive me?"

Mr. Kent looked to his wife, who shifted her hand to Lex's forearm, stroking over his sleeve. "Because that's what this family does," she said gently.

Lex felt his tears stream once again. He couldn't even imagine what his father would say if he asked for something like forgiveness. "Mr. Kent, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but . . . it might be better if I just go."

"You're not going anywhere."

"Please—"

"I told you that you were a part of our family. I'm a man of my word."

"I don't want to hurt you again! But . . . I can't fight the darkness, and—" His voice cracked.

"Hey." Mrs. Kent waited for him to look over at her, then wiped away his tears with her fingers. "You don't have to fight alone. But you have to let us help you, because we don't want to see you get hurt. You are worth that and more to us. We love you."

"And you might be right," Mr. Kent said. "That darkness might be strong enough to take over at times, and that might not even be your fault, but you're still going to be the one who has to deal with the consequences. And yes, today, those consequences hurt us, too. But we're not going to abandon you to try to work this out on your own. We're in this thing together. As a family."

Mr. Kent slid his hand up to Lex's far shoulder, so that his arm rested across his back. Lex stiffened at the semi-embrace, but Mr. Kent lightly rubbed his shoulder until he relaxed.

"I know it's hard, Lex," Mr. Kent said. "I struggle with violence."

"Really?"

"You should know." He moved his hand to Lex's left arm, applying a light pressure for a couple of seconds.

Lex frowned—it was tender and sore. Mr. Kent's vice grip from earlier had hurt him—probably not enough to bruise, but enough that he could feel it hours later. "Oh."

"I hope you can forgive me."

"Of course. I probably had it coming."

" _No,_ Lex. I could have lost control. I could have seriously hurt you."

Lex shrugged. It didn't seem to compare to his father's violent tendencies.

"But talking about it helps. We're here to talk whenever you need to. And we expect you to."

"Yes, sir." He straightened up a bit more in his seat, and Mr. Kent let go, though Mrs. Kent kept her hold on his hand.

"Okay, Lex," Mr. Kent said. "You're going to stay here for the next three days. You can leave the house if you need to for work, and you can help with farm chores if you'd like, but I want you to be home by dinnertime, and you're going to sleep in our house."

Lex raised his eyebrows. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to come next, but it wasn't that. "Are you . . . _grounding_ me?"

"No, not exactly. But you said being around us helps keep that darkness quiet. Well, we're going to make sure that happens."

Lex considered his plans for the next few days. "I've, ah, I've got a date with Helen tomorrow."

A slight pause as Mr. Kent looked toward his wife.

"That's fine," Mrs. Kent said. "But no drinking, and be home by midnight."

He'd rather reschedule the date—it would be easier to explain that than to try to make excuses for why he wasn't drinking or taking her home. "You can't tell me what to do."

"You're right, we can't," she said. "But we hope you'll do it anyway."

Lex fought the urge to groan. They weren't being overtly manipulative, they weren't threatening or bribing, and yet he knew he was going to do as they asked. His jaw pulsed. "You're punishing me."

"Yes and no," Mr. Kent said. "We're asking you to do this, for us and for yourself. You're twenty-two, Lex, we can't really enforce a punishment."

"Could always just hit me," Lex mumbled, but immediately regretted it.

Mr. Kent's expression darkened again. "What are you trying to do, Lex? Test me?"

"No, sir," he said, though he wondered if that was exactly what he had been doing.

"I'm sorry for the years I spent mistaking you for your father. But I've stopped, and now I'm asking you to extend the same courtesy to me. You're not him—neither am I."

"Hey," Mrs. Kent said, "I know I've swatted you on the shoulder sometimes, when you and Clark have come in late for dinner. I was trying to be gentle, I didn't think I was hurting you, but if you want me to stop—"

"It's really okay, Mrs. Kent, I wasn't talking about that. And Mr. Kent, I apologize. This, ah . . . family thing is new to me."

"Then let us help you get used to the idea," he said.

Lex understood what they were trying to do, and he wasn't really inclined to fight them on it. Still, he had to ask: "If I don't, are you going to kick me out of your family?"

Mr. Kent's eyes grew sad. "No. But breaking our trust damages our relationship. You can spend some time here and begin to restore that, or you can damage it further by disrespecting us when we're trying to help you."

Lex felt his eyes mist again. He didn't want to think about what would happen when he damaged it too much.

"You'll always be a part of our family, Lex," Mrs. Kent said, "and we'll always be here if you need us. But a family can be more than that, and we'd like to be. When Clark lies to us, it takes a long time for us to trust him again. When he hurts us, we still feel it long after we've forgiven him, and he feels it, too. But with time and effort, we'll all begin to heal. I promise."

"Okay," Lex said. "I'll stay for the three days."

"And hey," Mrs. Kent said, "Our trust may take a little time to earn back, but you still have our pride."

Lex blinked. "You're _proud_ of me?"

"Of course we're proud of you, Lex. You do so much good. Today was a mistake."

Lex looked toward Mr. Kent, as if to ask for his confirmation. Mr. Kent stared at him for a long time, then gave a brief nod.

Lex's chest swelled. It was as if the weight on it, which had only grown unbearably heavier throughout the evening, had suddenly been lifted. He tried to thank him, but his throat was too choked up to make a sound.

Mrs. Kent stroked his hand one last time with her thumb before letting go. "It's late. You should go on up to sleep."

He nodded and stood, surprised by how much lighter his feet felt as he walked toward the staircase. "Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Kent," he said.

"Good night, Lex," Mrs. Kent said. "We love you."

He stopped for a moment, looking back at her. She'd said that to him a few times now, and the words always soothed away an astounding amount of his pain. But today, he felt he understood better what the words meant.

"I love you, too," he said.


	26. Three Days

When Lex finished brushing his teeth and entered the guest room, he was startled to see Clark sitting up on the bed, reading a book.

"Couldn't sleep?" Lex asked.

"Oh, hi, Lex. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm okay."

"What did you do?"

"I messed up, but I don't want to talk about it right now. Tomorrow?"

Clark stood and examined Lex's face, grimacing. "It must have been bad. Looks like Dad lectured you _hard_."

"Yeah, I guess." Lex wished he'd washed his face so it wouldn't be so obvious he'd been crying, but he hadn't been expecting to see anyone else tonight.

Clark must have seen the embarrassment on his face. "If it makes you feel any better, I usually cry when he yells at me."

Lex shrugged. "My dad yells at me all the time, I've never . . ."

"It only hits me so hard because I know how much he cares about me. If he didn't, I—" Clark stopped short, as though suddenly realizing what he was saying. _"Oh._ I'm so sorry, Lex."

The implication should have been like an arrow to the heart, but Lex didn't feel it. He figured he was too emotionally worn out to feel much at all. "No, you're right. My dad's not capable of love. I'm used to it."

Clark rubbed the back of his neck, turning away. "Um, my parents love you a lot."

"Thanks, Clark."

"I'm gonna—I'll let you sleep now." Clark awkwardly slipped past Lex and headed for the doorway.

"Wait."

He turned to face Lex.

"You were right about what you said a few weeks back. He called me _son_."

Clark smiled. "What did I tell you?"

"He, uh, he called me son right after saying I'd broken his trust. That's what got me."

"Ouch. For me, it's when he talks about why he's disappointed in me right after telling me why he's proud of me."

"He did that, too. He said he was disappointed because he knows my conscience is strong and I should have known better."

Clark hissed sympathetically. "Yeah, you got the full treatment. Just a tip, in case if they ever do it again—I always brace myself when Mom takes my hand. That's how I know Dad's about to lay it on."

"Good to know."

Clark took a step closer. "You sure you're okay?"

Lex smiled. "Actually, I think I'm better than ever."

"It's amazing how that works." Clark gave him a light clap on the shoulder, then turned back toward the door. "Are you headed out early tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but I have to come back at dinnertime. Apparently I'm staying here for the next few nights."

"They _grounded_ you?"

"No. Well, kind of."

Clark shook his head, grinning. "Good night, Lex. See you tomorrow."

As Lex watched Clark go, he was filled with a sudden urge to ask how Clark had gotten into the LuthorCorp building, or for that matter, how he'd gotten to Metropolis in the first place. But the fatigue had already settled into his limbs, and Clark had already disappeared down the hall, so he left it alone.

* * *

Martha sat awake with Jonathan for awhile after both kids had gone to bed.

"I know that was hard for you," she said softly.

Jonathan sighed. "I only ever hated that kid because he was Lionel's."

She didn't comment on his use of the word _hate._ "Have you really forgiven him?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Forgiveness is a choice. And that choice was made when I told you he could be part of our family."

"You know what I mean. Are you still angry with him?"

He let out his breath. "Yeah, a little. But I'm not tempted to hit him. You were right, Martha, most of the things I was angry about weren't his fault. And it's hard to see Lionel in him while he's crying."

Martha knew exactly what he meant. Lex's honest vulnerability had been what endeared Jonathan to him in the first place. "Lionel gave up his rights to Lex when he abused him. Lex is _our_ kid now."

"He's not exactly calling us Mom and Dad."

"Well, we've never asked him to. Maybe we should."

Jonathan didn't say anything, but he didn't shut her down either, which she took to mean he would think about it. She didn't bring up the fact that Lex _had_ once called her Mom accidentally; he'd been mocking her, so she figured it didn't count.

She suddenly remembered what Jonathan had said to Lex about his violent tendencies. "What did you do to his arm?"

Jonathan's eyes fell closed. "Grabbed onto it, hard. Might have left a bruise."

"Jonathan!"

"I know, Martha."

She winced. "He forgave you without a thought."

"I know."

"He really loves you."

"And I do love him. But old habits . . ." Jonathan's eyes met hers. "He looked like he was expecting me to beat him."

"I think he was more concerned about being kicked out of our family." Martha smiled. "I think you convinced him his place is secure. You went and _grounded_ him."

Jonathan half laughed. "You're the one who told me to do what I would have done with Clark."

"I'm not criticizing. I think it will be good for both of you. For all four of us, actually." She squeezed his hand. "I don't get the sense he had much of a childhood, I doubt he minds us treating him a bit like a teenager at times."

"Maybe not."

"Though if you grounded Clark, it would be a punishment."

"Lex thinks it is."

"I know, but I think he's going to enjoy living here for the next three days."

"I could prevent that," Jonathan muttered.

"Save that for some time when Lex's plans don't blow up in his face. For now, just enjoy the time with your sons."

Jonathan wrapped an arm around her. "I will."

* * *

On the first morning, the sun was far too high in the sky by the time Lex woke up. He cursed a little as he got out of bed—he should have gotten up early enough to get a driver to bring him by the mansion to pick up a set of outdoor work clothes. Then he could have helped Mr. Kent with the morning chores before he headed to the plant.

When he got down to the kitchen, he apologized to Mrs. Kent for sleeping in, though she insisted she'd wanted him to sleep. Then he apologized again for betraying her the night before, but she wasn't having that, either, saying he'd already been forgiven. Lex still felt guilty enough to be antsy about getting out of their hair for the day, but she made him sit down and eat before he left, despite his protests that he usually skipped breakfast.

His first order of business was to stop by the mansion to pack himself a few days' worth of clothes, so he wouldn't have to keep coming back to change or borrowing from the Kents. Next was to drive his least expensive car to the plant for work, since he knew he'd be taking it to the farm after.

Most of the day's work was in patching things up after the hostage situation from the night before. He met with his own security, talked to lawyers and law enforcement, ran emergency drills with the employees, and checked in with the managers to gauge whether they felt safe. Even though the disaster had been at LuthorCorp and not LexCorp, everyone seemed to be feeling its effects, but they were proactive and even ahead of him in taking precautions. It was an easier day of work than he'd expected, and Lex had never been so proud of his people.

When he could spare a minute, he called Helen to postpone their date. She didn't ask for an explanation. After all, she'd seen the media circus from the night before, so most of her questions were about whether he was sure he was doing okay.

Lex wanted to bring Helen to the Kents, but he really didn't know how to ask her. He'd been dating her for two months, which felt like an eternity for him, but he didn't have anything normal to compare it to, and he had absolutely no experience with bringing a girl to meet his family. So he told himself he'd invite her to the Kents after she invited him to meet her family.

By the second day, Lex went to sleep early enough to wake up with the sun, and Mr. Kent showed him how to do some of the chores. He wouldn't let Lex work on the farm for more than an hour or so in the morning and evening, though. Something about pacing himself. Mr. Kent didn't seem to be pacing himself, so Lex didn't really understand what he was saying—until he woke up the next morning, almost too stiff to get out of bed. It took several minutes of stretching and gentle motion to be able to engage in any physical activity. Mr. Kent gave him easy chores until he was warmed up enough that the soreness was bearable.

Despite the pain, Lex thought the time he spent at the Kents was the best he'd had in his life. Dinner each night, of course, was the best part. Up until this point, Lex's evenings with the Kents had consisted either of catching up on whatever had happened during the previous week or two, or in rehashing the traumatic events that had caused him to be invited over. This was different. Rather than talking about general events, they told stories about their day, talked about their interests, and joked and laughed. Lex didn't feel like an outsider or a guest—he felt like one of them.

On the third evening, Mr. and Mrs. Kent went out to dinner for a belated anniversary celebration, and Lex and Clark were left alone in the house. They tried to cook, but they burned everything and completely messed up the kitchen, so they ended up driving to the mansion and having the staff make them pizza. Lex felt a little silly ordering it, since he never had, but the grin on Clark's face was worth it.

After dinner, Lex beat Clark at checkers so soundly that he felt bad, even though Clark was a good sport about it. Lex ended up secretly making up increasingly restrictive rules for himself to put himself at a disadvantage, until Clark was able to win a game.

It was difficult not to leave the Kents a lavish housewarming gift on the last day. He knew they wouldn't want it, especially considering it seemed to undermine the point of why they'd had him staying with them in the first place—they seemed to have meant it as more of a punishment than a gift. But he settled for asking a florist to put together an arrangement of some types of flowers the Kents didn't already grow, and he left them on the kitchen table with an honest thank-you card before he headed back home—or rather, back to the mansion.

He'd started out thinking it was punishment. Now, he was sad it was over.

For three days, Lex had slept like a baby all the way through the night. No night terrors. No waking up every hour obsessing over the reasons why his father was most recently upset with him. Just a bit of soreness when he settled into the soft, cheap cotton sheets—good soreness, just enough to remind him he'd done honest, hard work—and some stiffness when he woke up.

For three days, Mrs. Kent gave Lex a hug every morning before he left for work, every evening when he got back home, and every night before he went to bed. He would have thought it was weird, except she did the same for Clark, and Clark didn't seem to think it was any different from normal. Even if it had been weird, Lex didn't think he'd have minded.

For three days, Lex didn't drink anything stronger than lemonade. He felt no need for coffee in the morning, or for alcohol in the evening.

For three days, his inner darkness had nothing to say.


	27. Arrest

Jonathan tried hard to remember the night before, but the more he thought about it, the fuzzier it was in his memory.

He remembered being angry about the watch that Lionel had given to his wife. His violent tendencies had gotten the better of him, and he'd smashed the watch—he knew anger didn't excuse destroying her possessions, no matter how inappropriate her means of receiving them, but he was at least thankful he hadn't hurt her. She'd granted him time to clear his head, and he'd run off to the bar.

He distinctly remembered not finishing his first beer, but everything else was a blur, right up until Sheriff Ethan had found him asleep in his truck, a gun that didn't belong to him in his hand, along with a half a bottle of liquor he hadn't purchased.

Lionel had been shot. And all the evidence pointed to Jonathan.

He sat on the edge of the cot in the jail cell, then lay down, then sat back up. He tried resting his back against the wall, even putting his head between his knees, but nothing stopped the splitting headache. Finally, he resigned himself to the pain and just sat.

That was when Clark and Martha had rushed into the jail. He tried hard to given them an explanation, but he couldn't remember what had happened to save his life—and it was his life on the line.

"We need to get you a lawyer," Martha said. "I'm going to call my father and ask him to take your case."

"Martha, that man has never believed in me before. I don't see any reason why an attempted murder charge is gonna change that."

Clark piped up, "Lana told me that Henry Small used to be a criminal attorney."

"Well, he certainly wouldn't be intimidated by the Luthors."

Sheriff Ethan entered the hall outside the cell, along with a younger officer leading a hand-cuffed prisoner.

Lex.

"Jonathan," Ethan said, unlocking the cell door, "you're free to go."

Jonathan's jaw hung open, and he numbly stepped outside the cell just before Lex was shoved into it, rubbing his wrists and wincing.

Jonathan put an arm around Martha, who trembled, her eyes watering. "Lex," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Kent," Lex said softly.

So they'd failed. The months of dinners, the talks about right and wrong, and the three days he'd spent with them—they had taught him nothing. The forgiveness and kindness meant nothing to him. His dark side had taken over, enough that he had killed.

Jonathan had feared that someday, this day might come—a day when the Kents wouldn't be able to help Lex enough. There was no denying the kid was damaged badly, but he'd hoped that Martha was right. That with enough care, enough guidance, enough people believing in him, he could rise above it and fight off the darkness for a long, long time.

Jonathan thought that if they discovered Martha had been wrong, it would make him angry. But he didn't feel angry, not right now. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut and was struggling for air. Disappointment wasn't a strong enough word; it wasn't even close.

Martha first turned to Jonathan and embraced him tightly, kissing him on the lips. Then she stepped to the door of the cell, where Lex stood as close to her as he could. She reached up and took his face in both hands, stroking his temples with her thumbs, then placed a gentle kiss on his forehead through the bars before breaking down into sobs. Clark wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving Lex a confused look before leading his mother out of the jail.

Jonathan watched them go. He would catch up.

"Did you shoot your father?"

Lex glanced in the direction Sheriff Ethan had gone.

"He can't hear you," Jonathan said. "Be honest with me."

Lex let his breath out. "I didn't shoot anyone."

Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief, so deep that he could feel his heart hammering against his rib cage. Lex wasn't lost. "What happened?"

"I heard you'd been arrested. Eventually they'll figure out who shot him, but in the meantime, someone's gotta be sitting in this cell. And I wasn't gonna let it be you, so I confessed and said I'd framed you."

Jonathan let his eyes fall closed, hanging his head. "Lex."

"I'll be fine, Mr. Kent. The media will drag my name through the mud for a few days, but the Luthor name has been through worse. The plant will survive without me for a few days."

"Listen, Lex—"

"No, you listen to me. You and your family have done _far_ too much for me already. I won't let you be caught in the crossfire of our fight. Not again."

"Crossfire of your fight? You're saying you had something to do with your father being shot?"

" . . . No." It didn't sound like a lie; the denial itself was a confession.

Jonathan reached through the bars and took his shoulder, careful this time not to grip too hard. "Then this wasn't your fight. It's going to be harder for you to get out of here, having already made a confession. At least when it was me, they were going to do an investigation."

"I've got better lawyers than you."

Jonathan knew that was true. According to Martha, this wasn't the first time Lex had taken the fall for a murder committed by someone else. "I just don't want to see you get stuck in here."

He shrugged. "Better me than you."

He gave Lex's shoulder a light shake. "That is _not_ your decision to make!"

Lex kept eye contact with Jonathan. "You have a family that loves you."

"So do you!" Jonathan shook him a little harder. "Get that through your _head_ , son!"

Lex looked away and didn't say anything for a long time.

Jonathan let go of his shoulder. He was sure he hadn't hurt Lex physically, but he didn't want to start. "Try to get some sleep. I'm sure you've been up all night."

Lex nodded, and Jonathan walked away. He caught Sheriff Ethan heading out the door.

"Ethan, are you going to investigate?" Jonathan asked.

"There's nothing to investigate. He confessed."

"And you believe him?"

"You don't? I'd think you of all people would, Jonathan, considering your feelings about the Luthors."

"My problem is with Lionel. Lex is a good kid."

Ethan gave him a look. "You think he's innocent?"

Jonathan didn't want to quote Lex directly—even though he didn't agree with what Lex had done, it felt like it would be a betrayal of trust. It probably wouldn't do any good, either—and confessing himself would just land them both in jail. "I think you should find out for sure," Jonathan said finally.

"Why would he confess if he didn't do it?"

"Why would he confess if he _did?_ I'd already been arrested, he could have gotten away with it. Like I said, it's worth the investigation."

Ethan stared at him for a moment. "We'll look into it. I don't know what good it will do, though."

Jonathan nodded and headed out to meet Martha and Clark in the car.

She sat in the passenger seat, crying hard, while Clark sat in the back, gently patting her shoulder. Jonathan slid into the driver's seat and reached over to wrap an arm around her, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair. "Sh, sh."

Her whole body was racked with sobs. "We—we tried to h-help him . . . h-his darkness . . . b-but we _couldn't_ . . ."

"Martha, he didn't shoot his father."

She gasped, her tears stopping suddenly. " _What?_ "

"What happened, Dad?" Clark asked.

"He confessed to get me out."

Clark's brow furrowed. "Why would he do that?"

Jonathan sighed. "It seems to be something he does for the people he cares about most."

"Like at Club Zero," Clark said.

"But he can't keep doing this." Martha wiped away her tears. "He's going to get himself into real trouble one of these days."

"I know." Jonathan sighed.

"We have to get him out of there! Talk to Sheriff Ethan, see if you can get him released!"

He just shook his head. He knew it wouldn't work, and so did she. "We're going to have to do the same thing for him that you were going to do for me."

"Find the murderer," Clark said.

Jonathan looked back at him, considering for a moment. He was sure that a year ago, he would have forbidden Clark from getting involved. Now, Clark had involved himself in so many of Smallville's murders, Jonathan couldn't imagine stopping him. Clark had grown up quite a bit.

"We'll visit him again tomorrow," Jonathan said, and Martha nodded. He reached over to wipe away her tears, kissing her again, for much longer this time.

" _Daad,_ " Clark whined.

Jonathan chuckled and pulled away. Maybe Clark hadn't grown up _too_ much.

"I'm glad to have you back, sweetie," Martha said.

Jonathan nodded, but couldn't bring himself to smile.

There was nothing more to say, so he began the quiet drive home.


	28. Self-Worth

Over the next few days, Jonathan wasn't able to get much more work done than he would have if he had been in jail. The three of them visited Lex every evening to bring him updates on his father, and Martha dropped by in the mornings as well to make sure he was eating and sleeping.

Jonathan worried constantly about Clark, who he begrudgingly allowed to investigate the situation, reasoning that he wouldn't have been able to stop him if Jonathan himself had been in jail. Jonathan respected Ethan, but the Smallville police department wasn't always able to get to the bottom of cases, especially considering meteor rocks seemed to be involved in every other major crime. Jonathan had no reason to believe meteor rocks would be involved in this one, but he still worried about Clark.

Meanwhile, Martha was a wreck. Jonathan knew she would have been just as devastated if Jonathan himself had been in jail, but it was different with Lex. When Jonathan had been arrested, most people hadn't believed he was guilty even though all of the evidence pointed to him, but people generally believed Lex had shot his father, which made his exoneration feel like a lost cause, even with Lex's army of lawyers.

Even when Jonathan went out to do chores, he didn't stay out of the house for longer than an hour or two without coming back in to check on Martha. She was either crying or staring into space almost every time he came into the house, though much of the time she was attempting to continue her work through her tears.

But eventually—and none too soon—the case was solved.

They heard the news about Sheriff Ethan having been the shooter only minutes before Clark and Lex came home. Jonathan was too relieved to have his family back together to dwell for long on the fact that his long-time friend had become a murderer—or at least, an attempted murderer. He would mourn later.

Jonathan clapped each of his boys on the shoulder as they came into the house, giving them each a warm smile, but Martha rushed up to them.

"Clark, I'm so proud of you." Martha pulled Clark into a hug while he grinned widely.

"Thanks, Mom."

She held Clark at arm's length and stroked his hair, smiling, before letting go and turning to Lex. "Lex, how _dare_ you worry me like that!" She threw her arms around Lex and held him so tightly that Jonathan almost spoke up to remind her not to strangle the kid.

"Ah, Mrs. Kent—" His words were labored, like he was struggling to breathe. " _Ow_."

She let go, but gave him a light cuff on the arm. "Don't you _ever_ do that again."

Lex straightened his shirt. "I'll try not to, Mrs. Kent."

"Any news about your father?" Jonathan asked.

"It was touch and go for awhile there, but it looks like he's gonna pull through." There was no trace of a smile on his face as he said it, and Jonathan didn't blame him for that. He couldn't imagine the conflict that must be going through the kid's head at the whole situation.

"Clark, could you help your mother with dinner? I'd like to speak to Lex in the living room."

Lex's face turned a bit paler. Jonathan didn't intend to scold him to tears like he had the week before, but Lex had no way of knowing that. Jonathan didn't think it was necessarily a bad thing for him to sweat a little, though. Lex hadn't done anything morally wrong, but Jonathan still didn't want him to repeat the choices he'd made this week.

Martha took Lex's hand and gave it a quick squeeze, then disappeared into the kitchen, closely followed by Clark.

Jonathan gestured for Lex to sit down on the couch while he himself sat down on the armchair beside it.

"Mr. Kent, I wasn't trying to make things worse by confessing, I just thought—"

"You did a good thing, Lex."

Lex's eyebrows raised.

"I want to thank you for the sacrifice you made. I know your heart was in the right place. What you did was brave, and selfless, and it was as unlike your father as you could possibly be."

"Oh. Thank you, Mr. Kent. I mean, you're welcome." Lex looked confused.

"Your actions were moral, but they were reckless. You could have ended up stuck in prison for years."

Lex blinked. "So could you. I wasn't going to let that happen."

"I wouldn't have, and you know it. But you, going in there and _confessing . . ._ "

Lex shook his head. "I know, but I didn't want you to be in there at all. A day is too long."

"You're right. A day _is_ too long." Jonathan hesitated for a moment, but decided to be completely honest. "Martha has been crying on and off ever since you went to jail. Clark spent the entire time trying to investigate your father's murder, he's days behind on schoolwork now. And I haven't been able to do much on the farm, because I've been busy worrying about him, and Martha, and you."

"They would have been doing the same thing if you were the one in jail."

Jonathan nodded. "That's probably true."

"Then why are you telling me this?"

Jonathan looked him deep in the eyes. "Because I never, ever, _ever_ want to hear you say again that you don't have a family that loves you."

Lex's head lowered, and he looked down at his hands.

Jonathan almost snapped at Lex to look up at him, but he held himself back. The last lecture had been more of a punishment; this one was meant to be encouragement, and he didn't want to make Lex any more uncomfortable than he needed to be. "Son, we would all be devastated if something happened to you."

Lex nodded, though his face was blank.

Jonathan felt himself flooding with frustration. "Why don't you believe us, Lex? Why is this so hard to understand?"

Lex's eyes lifted to the black television screen. "My father once told me that, uh, that he loved me."

Jonathan breathed in to speak, but closed his mouth.

"A few years ago. He gave this long speech about family, and how he was proud of the man I was becoming. He was manipulating me, of course—he just wanted me to do something, and I believed him and walked straight into his trap."

Heat rushed through Jonathan's limbs. "You think I'm like your father?"

"No, I—"

"You think we're trying to _manipulate_ you? After everything—"

" _No_. I'm answering your question. You asked me why this is so hard to understand, and I'm telling you why."

Jonathan was silent for a moment. Lex had never been so open with him before. "Lex, you know we're not like him."

"Yeah, I know. In my mind, anyway. I know that your family . . . well, you know."

Jonathan waited a moment, but Lex had trailed off. "Say it," Jonathan told him.

Lex's eyes met his.

Jonathan repeated Lex's words: "You know that our family . . . what? Finish the sentence."

Lex swallowed hard and looked down at his hands again. His voice was very soft when he finally spoke. "You love me."

"Say it again."

Lex scowled. " _You love me_."

"Good. What else?"

"What do you mean?"

"What else do you know about this family? We love you and what else?"

Lex winced. "Do I really have to say it?"

"I'm asking you to."

Lex blinked a couple of times. "You care about me. You want to help me fight my inner darkness. Um, a minute ago you said you'd be . . . unhappy if something happened to me."

"I didn't say unhappy. What did I say?"

"Devastated," Lex whispered.

" _Devastated_."

Lex looked over at Jonathan for just a second before looking away, eyes shining. Jonathan had planned to make him repeat the whole thing over again, but he didn't push him. He didn't want to make him cry.

"You didn't do anything wrong this week, Lex, not exactly. You sacrificed yourself for me. That sacrifice doesn't mean much if you think you're worth nothing. I can't stop you from making sacrifices, but I want you to make them knowing your own worth. Maybe that will help you be smarter about the choices you make."

Lex's voice caught in his throat, and he threw down his hands in frustration. "It's not that simple, Mr. Kent. Everything my father taught me, it's not a switch I can just flip on and off!"

"I didn't say it was."

It was quiet for a long time.

Jonathan wanted to come sit on the same couch as Lex and put a hand on his knee or his shoulder—it was what he would have done for Clark—but he didn't know how Lex would respond to the contact while he was already so vulnerable, so he stayed where he was for the time being. "Lex, how many times has your father made you feel worthless since your mother passed away?"

"You're really gonna make me answer that?" Lex spoke through his teeth.

"Did you believe him the first time? The second? The third?"

"Why does it matter?"

"It _doesn't_. That's my point. Someday, you'll finally believe us that your life has value—not just know it in your mind, but really believe it, in your heart and in the choices you make. And it won't matter to me how many times I had to tell you."

Lex took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Kent."

Jonathan could see he was starting to get through to Lex, but he thought maybe he could take things one step further. "Listen, Lex . . . Martha and I have been talking about something."

Lex looked him straight in the eyes.

"Ah . . ." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't want to put any pressure on you. We'll keep answering to Mr. and Mrs. Kent if that's what's most comfortable to you, but, uh . . ."

"You . . . want me to switch to your first names?"

"Well, sure, I guess you can call us by our first names if you want. But I was actually going to say . . . well, I know how things are with your father, and I know you haven't had a mother for a long time. And we, uh . . . we love you like a son, Lex. If you wanted to call us . . . you know . . ."

Lex's eyes widened. "Oh! . . . Um . . ."

Jonathan worried that he'd brought it up a little too soon. "Just . . . think about it, okay?"

Lex nodded. "I will."

"In the meantime, I hope you won't mind if I keep calling you _son_."

"I don't mind." Lex smiled.

Clark peeked his head into the living room. "Hey, Mom says to come in for dinner."

Jonathan smiled. "We'll be right there, Clark."

Clark nodded and headed back to the kitchen, and Jonathan stood. Lex followed close behind.

"I'm sorry to hear things fell behind on the farm this week," Lex said. "Can I help you catch up on chores?"

Jonathan shook his head, smiling a little. "You've got 2500 employees counting on you to keep the plant open, and a PR nightmare to deal with, what with you getting yourself arrested. I can take care of the farm."

Lex smiled. "I'll make you proud."

This time, Jonathan did put a hand on his shoulder. "I have no doubt of that, son."


	29. Gaslighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during 2x14, Rush, in which Chloe and Pete get taken over by a parasite that makes them wild and impulsive (and they end up putting red K in Clark's pocket). Using direct quotes; I do not own. Mild swearing in this one.

Lex wasn't looking forward to telling Clark that Walden didn't want anyone to be in the caves.

Clark had been downright weird about the caves ever since he'd found them. He insisted that he was just interested because of his term paper, but Lex has never seen Clark so obsessed with a school assigment. Lex suspected there was more to it than that. Either way, he was happy to let Clark into the caves whenever he wanted, until Walden insisted no one else be allowed inside.

Clark might have known more about those cave paintings than he was letting on, but Lex still needed Walden. So he drove over to the farm to let Clark know that Walden wouldn't budge.

Pete and Chloe were with him in the barn. From the moment Lex entered, they didn't seem like themselves. Clark was actually carrying Chloe in his arms.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Lex said.

Clark glared at Lex. "You are." He set Chloe down.

Lex asked to speak to Clark alone, and Pete and Chloe left the barn, leering at him. Lex knew Pete didn't like him, but he and Chloe had always been on good terms. He wasn't sure where any of this was coming from.

On her way out, Chloe took a crack at his baldness. And Clark _laughed_.

It was a cheap joke. Not even particularly clever. But it hit Lex off guard, and it hit him hard.

 _"You could kill her, you_ _know._ _"_

Lex's jaw pulsed. It had been awhile since the voice inside had been so direct with him.

_"Could make it look like an accident. No one would know."_

Still making ridiculous suggestions. Chloe hadn't said anything Lex hadn't heard a million times before. She was just a teenager.

" _You weak, pathetic little man. You let people speak to you that way, how do you expect to be respected?"_

With effort, Lex ignored the voice and turned to Clark. "What's going on, Clark? If I didn't know better, I'd say you guys were on something."

Clark put an arm around Lex. "We're just having a good time. Not that it's any of your business. You ever hear of a phone? I'm sick of you just barging in like you own the place. It's really—"

"I came here to tell you, Clark." Lex shrugged away from Clark's arm. "I talked to Walden. He won't budge."

"He won't budge, or you don't want me in the cave? Come on, don't lie to me. You're Lex Luthor. You pay a guy to do a job, he does what you tell him. Isn't that the way it always works?"

Lex told himself Clark was just being a moody teenager, throwing a tantrum because he didn't get what he wanted. It helped with the anger, but it didn't help with the pain. "Clark . . ."

"I'm gonna go into those caves whenever I damn well please. I dare you to stop me."

Stinging and exasperated, Lex forced his voice to remain gentle: "Is this really about a term paper?"

Clark smiled. Somehow, it reminded Lex of his father's smiles.

Then he said, "You'd love to know, wouldn't you?"

It was like a dagger to the heart. Clark _did_ know something he wasn't letting on. All the times Clark had said he didn't know anything, that he was just as curious as Lex was—all lies. Lex had always suspected, but now Clark had _admitted_ it.

"I'm gonna go," Clark said "So are you."

Clark shoved Lex hard enough that he stumbled several feet, stopping just short of a support beam.

"I like to see you standing up for yourself, Clark. I really do. Be careful not to cross the line." It was a useless comment—the line had already been far more than crossed.

Clark turned back to face him. "Is that a threat?"

Something about Clark's voice truly intimidated him. Lex only just managed to hide it. "I'm just giving you a friendly piece of advice."

"Let me give you some back. If you know what's good for you, stay the hell away from me."

Lex stood in the barn staring after Clark for a long time, heart hammering. He almost went into the house to find out if Mrs. Kent knew anything about what Clark was talking about, but he was afraid of the answer. If she didn't know, then Clark was keeping secrets from his parents, too, and Lex would be creating a division in their family. But based on Mr. Kent's reactions when Lex brought up the caves, he suspected they knew whatever Clark did. Lex didn't think he could stand to hear Mrs. Kent lying to him, especially not right after Lex inevitably took comfort in one of her hugs.

So he went to the Talon instead. He checked his watch—Lana was usually at the counter at this time, but today it was one of the other baristas instead.

Lex had really been hoping to see her. She was simple and naive about a lot of things, but there was something honest and pure about her, and it was refreshing. "I was looking for Lana," he told the barista.

"In the back. But you might not want to go in there."

"Why, is she changing?" He couldn't imagine her needing to change clothes in the middle of the workday.

The barista mouthed, "Crying."

He hurried to the back room.

Lana was huddled in a corner faced away from the door, her shoulders shaking. "Leave me alone."

"I can, if you want me to, but I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

She whirled around when she heard his voice. "Lex, I'm sorry."

She looked terrible. Red-rimmed eyes, tears coating her face, mascara running down her cheeks. Lex reached for a tissue from the box that sat on a side table, and he started gently wiping away her tears. "What happened?"

Lana breathed in to speak, but burst into tears once again.

"Okay, it's okay." He dropped the tissue into a trash bin and opened his arms, and she collapsed into them. Her tears immediately soaked through his shirt at the shoulder, but he just held her tighter, pressing one hand into her back and using the other to hold her head. When her sobs had slowed down, he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head.

"That's okay." He began to gently stroke her hair, trying to imitate the motion Mrs. Kent used. Something occurred to him. "Lana, was Clark here?"

She pulled back. " _Don't_ talk to me about Clark."

"Ah, I see." He picked up the tissue box and held it out to her, and she took a few. "Did he lie to you?"

She half laughed while dabbing at one eye. "Not this time."

He waited for her to continue, but she didn't. "I think he's having a bad day—"

"You don't always have to defend him, Lex." Her voice dripped with acid.

"Okay." Lex sighed. Clark would have to make amends on his own this time. Lex really was rooting for him, but he kept messing things up. "Take all the time you need, okay? And remember the mansion doors are always open to you if you do want to talk."

She nodded, and he patted her shoulder one last time before leaving her alone.

It wasn't the first time he'd had to comfort Lana while she cried about Clark doing something to hurt her, and he suspected it wouldn't be the last. Sometimes Clark had off days, and Smallville seemed to have an abundance of toxins, diseases, and other strange things that caused people to have worse-than-bad days against their will. Lex would forgive Clark when it was over, and Lana probably would, too.

This time, though, there was one comment Clark wouldn't be able to take back. The words kept echoing in Lex's mind as he drove away from the Talon, the darkness quoting them back, the truth in the taunt sinking in like acid:

_You'd love to know, wouldn't you?_

* * *

Getting Pete and Chloe to the hospital after catching the car they drove off a cliff was only the start of a very long afternoon. Clark was relieved that Chloe had no memory of what they'd done while she was infected with the parasite, and while Pete didn't remember what happened, he still apologized for what Clark told him he'd done. That was the easy part.

Since red meteor rock had been involved, Clark's mom sat down with him and talked him through everything he remembered. She wasn't angry with him, and she gave him a hug and plenty of encouragement after he finished, but recounting the things he'd said and done to Lana and Lex was horribly embarrassing.

His mom suggested flowers and chocolates for Lana, along with a heartfelt apology and an offer to give her space for a little while. She also boxed up a few fresh baked muffins for Clark to take to Lex, and told Clark to promise to stay out of the caves until Dr. Walden was done. He didn't like that part, but he supposed it was better to wait a little longer than to keep fighting with his best friend.

Clark started with Lana, because he was more worried about that conversation. He picked up a single red rose, but the chocolate shop was already closed for the night, so he bought a personal pizza instead—at least it came in a box—and dropped by the Talon while she was cleaning up.

It went about as badly as he could have expected. Of course, she wouldn't forgive him for kissing Chloe, and he couldn't tell her about the red meteor rock, so in the end, he left without any kind of resolution. The worst part was knowing how badly he had hurt her, recognizing that there was nothing he could do to comfort her.

In his distress, he accidentally took the pizza with him, and he forgot to drop by the house to pick up the muffins for Lex, so he ended up showing up in Lex's study with a cold personal pizza.

Lex didn't look up from his laptop. "Hard to stay away from you when you show up in my study."

Clark's heart sank. From Lex's perspective, he knew he deserved that. "I'm sorry, Lex, I didn't mean it—"

"It's okay, Clark." Lex closed his laptop, and his eyes fell on the pizza box.

Clark looked down at it. "Oh, um . . . This is nothing." He set the box down on the pool table and took a step closer to Lex's desk. "I'm sorry about earlier. I'll stay away from the caves until Dr. Walden finishes." It would be hard to stay away from the only source he had to learn about his past, but he really didn't expect Dr. Walden to get anywhere with his translations. Besides, Clark could always find out Dr. Walden's schedule and sneak in when he wasn't there.

"Actually, I talked to Walden. He's agreed to make an exception."

Relief flooded through Clark. "Thanks, Lex." He smiled. "So, we're good?"

A long pause. "Yeah. We're good." Lex opened back up his laptop and stared at it.

Clark was about to leave, thankful Lex had been easier to make amends with than Lana, but then the sarcasm in Lex's voice hit him. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"If something's bothering you—"

"I know you don't want to talk about it, and I don't want to argue with you. It's not worth our friendship."

Clark sighed. He wanted to accept that and let it go, but he knew his mom wouldn't be satisfied if he went home and told her that he had left things like this.

"Lex." Clark took a step closer. "My parents say you're part of our family, right? That means we're not just friends, we're brothers. You can be honest with me."

Lex looked back up at Clark. "Then why do you lie to me?"

"When have I ever lied to you?" Clark kept his face as blank as he could as he said it, but guilt squirmed in his stomach.

"I asked you earlier today if your interest in the cave was really about a term paper. Do you remember what you said?"

Clark swallowed—he'd completely forgotten about that. And he couldn't exactly deny it.

"Thing is, I _would_ like to know, Clark. Your interest in the caves. _Is_ it really about a term paper?"

Clark was starting to regret his comment about brothers being honest with each other. It just made it harder to keep lying. "I . . . wasn't in my right mind, Lex, I said a lot of things I didn't mean. You know that."

"I know." Lex looked down for a moment. "I also know you're avoiding the question."

"I _said_ I was sorry!" Clark was starting to panic. "What do you want from me?"

Lex just stared at him for a long time. "You just said we're brothers. Was that a lie, too?"

"No!"

"But back in the barn . . ."

Clark took a deep breath, scrambling for a believable half-truth. "I was in a bad mood, trying to pick a fight. So I said something I thought would make you mad. I'm writing a term paper about the caves. And that's all there is to it."

Lex's head hung. "Okay, Clark. I believe you."

Clark couldn't push down the guilt. He lied to his friends all the time—he had to—but this felt different. This felt more like gaslighting—something Clark had read about in a psychology book. He was purposely denying things Lex knew to be true, making him feel like he was going crazy, forcing him to doubt his own eyes and ears. It was a form of abuse, and it could do serious damage.

He couldn't tell Lex anything else about his secret, but he knew there had to be something better he could say. He just had no idea what it might be. His dad would know.

"Lex, you should come over."

"It's almost ten."

"Yeah, but . . . my mom made you some muffins, and I forgot them at home . . ."

"I'm a bit tired, Clark. Can I pick them up tomorrow?"

Clark wouldn't sleep tonight. He couldn't leave this one alone. "Please, Lex."

Lex sighed heavily. "Fine."


	30. Compromise

Clark took out his cell phone and called his dad while Lex went to his room to grab a jacket. The advantage to the size of the mansion was that Clark had time to say that he was bringing Lex home, and to ask his dad if he could get mom to talk with Lex for awhile so Clark could have a conversation with his dad alone. He knew his father would grill him with questions when he got home, but over the phone, he just told Clark it was fine, and that he'd see him in a few minutes.

The car ride from the mansion to the farm was quiet. Clark wasn't sure if Lex was upset or just tired. Fatigue wasn't something that he really understood. During the one day he'd spent as a normal human, when Eric Summers had taken his powers, he'd been tired all the time, but most of his friends didn't act like they were always tired, and he knew people often said they were tired when they were actually upset about something.

Clark's mom met them at the side door to the kitchen. She gave Clark a hug and tousled his hair before turning to Lex and hugging him as well.

It had been weird at first for Clark to watch his mom hug someone else like a son, but he didn't begrudge Lex his mom's comfort. Lex seemed stressed and uptight most of the time; he'd started smiling so much more often since he started spending more time with their family, and he always looked so serene in her arms. His eyes closed, and his shoulders relaxed.

She patted Lex on the back and let go, turning back to Clark. "Clark, your father wants to speak to you up in your room. Lex, come into the kitchen with me, I have something for you."

Clark nodded and gave Lex a little wave before trudging to the staircase and making the long trek to his room.

His father was already there, sitting on a chair beside the bed. Clark sat on his bed. This was a familiar position for him—it was the way they used to sit when Clark was in trouble, though his mom often sat beside him when it was time for the lecture part. He didn't think he'd be in trouble for things he said on red meteor rock, but his dad would probably still panic and maybe give him a disappointed look, which was worse than any grounding.

His father rested his elbows on his knees and looked Clark right in the eyes. "What's on your mind, son?"

Clark swallowed hard. "I messed up, Dad. When I was on red meteor rock, Lex came into the barn and told me I couldn't go into the caves anymore, and I said something . . . bad."

"Your mother told me a little about that. Is he having a hard time forgiving you?"

"No, I think he forgave me, but . . . he asked if me going into the cave was really just about a term paper, and I said _you wish you knew_ , or something like that."

His father brought a hand to his face, rubbing his forehead. "And the reason you didn't tell your mother about this?"

"I completely forgot I even said it."

"But Lex didn't."

Clark shook his head. "I think he was ready to let it go. But I could tell there was still something bothering him, so . . . I pushed him to tell me what was wrong, and he asked why I keep lying to him, and . . ."

His dad's face fell. That was the disappointed look Clark was so afraid of.

Clark winced. "I was on red meteor rock, Dad, I didn't mean to." He waited another moment, feeling the tension in the room. "Am I in trouble?"

His dad took a deep breath. "No, son. Tomorrow, though, we're going to have a long talk about strategies for dealing with the red meteor rock. I will never punish you for something you can't control, but that doesn't mean there aren't real life consequences for your actions."

Clark's eyes stung. "I really hurt Lana today."

"I know, son."

"And I hurt Lex, too."

"Yes, you did."

Clark blinked back his tears. "I think, uh . . . I can fix things with Lana, it just might take a long time for her to forgive me. But . . . I can't take back what I said to Lex. He knows I'm keeping something from him."

"He'll let it go with time. You can't tell people your secret, Clark. It's not safe for you or for them."

"But he _knows_ I'm lying. And now he'll _always_ know. I can't take that back."

"You could tell him you were just trying to get a rise out of him."

"I did. He said he believed me, but I think I messed that up by immediately insisting he come over, then leaving to go to my room to talk to you . . ."

"Then why did you?" he snapped.

Clark flinched. "Because I felt terrible! I was going to leave it alone, but you and Mom keep saying he's family, and I used that to get him to open up to me. I told him brothers were honest with each other and that I wouldn't lie to him."

" _Clark!_ "

"I didn't know what to do, Dad! I can't take this back. And I was thinking, his dad lies to him so much, and I want him to believe we're different, and that he's part of our family, but now—"

"Now it's worse." Jonathan sighed and rubbed his eyebrows. "It's not your fault that it's worse. But it's one thing for him to find out a friend is lying to him, and quite another when it's coming from a brother."

Clark shifted his weight a little. His parents had wanted to bring Lex into the family to help him, but right now it was making things worse. "What do I do?"

His father lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose for awhile. "We're going to be honest with him."

"About my secret?"

"No. Not unless he already knows it. It would put both of you in danger."

"Then what are we going to say?"

"Do you trust me, son?"

"Of course."

"Then let's go down and talk to him together." He stood, and Clark followed. His father put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Clark took comfort in its warmth and sturdiness.

He couldn't imagine not being able to trust his father. A weight settled onto his chest as it occurred to him that that distrust was how Lex felt all the time about his own father—and now he felt it about Clark, too.

* * *

"What did he say to you?" Mrs. Kent set a box of muffins on the table and sat down beside Lex.

"Ah, nothing serious." He looked down at the muffins, but he didn't think he could eat. "I hired a linguist to help me with translations in the cave, but he insists on working alone. Clark's upset because I said he couldn't go into the caves for awhile."

"What did he _say?_ "

Lex let his breath out. He didn't want to repeat any of it. "He said he was going to go into the caves anyway. Also said to stay away from him."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, _did_ he?"

Lex recognized that look—he didn't want to get Clark into trouble. "I'm sure he doesn't mean it. He was just angry. I guess I'm just confused about why. I know he's writing a term paper about the caves, but I don't know, it seems like there's more to it."

"Did you ask him?"

"Actually, I did."

She blinked a couple of times. "Oh. What did he say?"

"He said, 'You'd like to know, wouldn't you?'"

She sighed heavily. "Oh, sweetie."

"He came by to apologize, says he was just trying to get a rise out of me—"

"It's not personal, Lex, and it's not just you. It was an off day for him. He said some things to Lana, too—"

"I know." He decided against telling her how he knew.

"But he really cares about you. We all do."

Just then, Clark came into the room closely followed by Mr. Kent. "Have a seat, son," Mr. Kent told Clark, and they sat, Mr. Kent across from Lex, Clark beside him.

"How are you two doing?" Mr. Kent asked, looking from his wife to Lex.

"It's been a rough day." Mrs. Kent placed a hand on Lex's on the table, gently stroking his fingers.

Lex pulled his hand away, his cheeks feeling warm. "I'm fine."

"I understand Clark said some things to you today."

Clark winced. "Dad . . ."

"It's okay, Mr. Kent," Lex said quickly. "He apologized. We're good."

"He lead you to believe we know things about the caves."

"He explained that, too. I know he was having a bad day." Lex didn't believe it for a minute, especially not with how strange the Kents were acting now, but he was far too sore emotionally to take a scolding for pushing them.

"Lex . . . I know trust can't come easy to you. But I hope you can believe me when I say we're not doing this to hurt you."

Lex's heart rate spiked. "You're not doing _what_ to hurt me?"

Mr. Kent took a deep breath. "Keeping secrets."

Adrenaline flooded through Lex's veins with such intensity that the whole room looked fuzzy for a moment. A million questions fought for first consideration, but he couldn't make his mouth move.

"You're an intelligent young man, Lex. I'm sure you can tell when someone is lying to you, and you know Clark's lied to you quite a bit over the past year or so."

Lex had a hard time convincing himself he wasn't dreaming. "I—I mean—"

"I hate lying to you," Clark said softly.

"But Lex, as much as you're going to hate to hear it, the secrets we keep really are for your protection and ours."

_"Can you believe him?"_

Lex swallowed hard. The darkness didn't usually dare speak at the Kents' dinner table.

" _He admits to lying to you, then has the audacity to claim it's for your protection._ "

For once, Lex didn't want to argue with the voice. He wanted to snap at Mr. Kent that he could take care of himself, but he still couldn't get himself to form words.

"I can imagine that's hard for you to believe, but I want you to think about the past year and a half. Well over a dozen of Clark's classmates have either died or been committed to mental institutions. His Kawache friend, Kaya, passed away as well. You've had to save Clark's life several times, and he's saved yours as well."

"And I still don't understand how," Lex said, suddenly finding a voice. "That day on the bridge—"

"I'm not bringing these things up to remind you of all the things you don't know. I'm bringing these up to give you an idea that what we're dealing with is _dangerous_. For all of us."

"You know what happened on the bridge? And about the caves? And about the meteor rocks, and the octagon, and—"

"Lex, we'd tell you if we could!" Clark sounded desperate.

Lex's eyes darted around the table. "All three of you know."

Mrs. Kent reached for his arm. "Lex—"

He pulled away. "All three of you. You know _everything!_ "

The darkness hissed: " _Of course they do. They're a family._ "

Mr. Kent's eyes fell closed for a moment. "The three of us know things that put us in danger. But we're also not currently fighting a war against one of the most dangerous and powerful men in the state."

Lex's teeth clenched. "Do you think I'd betray you to my father?"

"No. But I think you have enough danger in your life without mixing ours with yours."

" _He doesn't trust you._ "

Lex knew the Kents didn't quite trust him—that much was on Lex, for his lies a few weeks ago—but he couldn't quite trust them right now, either. True, Mr. Kent made a good point about the danger. A statistically impossible number of students at Smallville High had died in strange circumstances. But didn't that make it _more_ important that Lex knew what was going on? Especially if it ever came up in the fight with his father?

"But Lex," Mr. Kent went on, "you're part of this family, and that means we don't want to lie to you anymore."

"How do I know _that's_ not a lie?"

He'd known for a long time they were keeping something from him. Hearing it said aloud shouldn't have changed anything, but somehow it did. It changed everything. Because they didn't just know _something—_ they knew _everything._

Lex felt crushed under the weight of the sheer number of times they'd lied in the past year and a half. Clark had even _yelled_ at him for asking questions a few times. The Room of Obsession wasn't big enough to contain his pain over that number of lies. The mansion couldn't contain it.

 _He_ couldn't contain it.

All those times they'd said they _loved_ him . . . he'd tried so hard to trust them. How could he now?

Lex's throat closed up, and he blinked a few times. They'd seen him cry before, but he didn't want them to see him tear up over this.

"I'm tired." Lex meant the word in so many ways, and even if he didn't trust the Kents about anything, he trusted that they would understand that.

"It's okay, Lex. Let's talk more tomorrow."

He shook his head. "I'm going to be pretty busy at the plant this week."

"Give us a call when you can, son."

"I'm not your son."

A long pause. "We'll talk more when you've had a chance to think."

Lex stood from the table, numb. Mrs. Kent followed him to the side door. She stepped toward him, beginning to open her arms, and he flinched away. He saw the hurt in her eyes as she stepped back, but he looked away. She'd lied to him, too.

He didn't go straight home. He hit the highways, speeding faster and faster until the dark landscape blurred as much from the speed as from his tears.


	31. Pain

Lex didn't go to bed that night. His inner darkness kept him up later and later, taunting with increasingly harsh _I told you so'_ s. In the end, he drank until he passed out on the couch in his study.

He woke up too late with a pounding headache. He dragged himself up long enough to make a few phone calls, cancelling his appointments and giving a few instructions to the managers at the plant, then he made himself drink some water—though he vomited immediately after draining the glass—and went to bed.

But the darkness inside him wouldn't leave him alone, even in his dreams.

_"You knew all along they were lying to you."_

"They wouldn't lie if they didn't have a good reason."

_"Maybe they had a good reason for making you believe they loved you, too."_

In the nightmare, Lex gripped his head in anguish. "Why do you hate me?"

 _"I don't. I want to survive. Your weakness will be the death of me."_ The voice became uncharacteristically gentle. _"Why don't you let me drive for a bit?"_

"No! I have to fight you!"

It laughed. _"More lies from Jonathan Kent. How long are you going to believe him, Lex?"_

"Leave me alone!"

_"How long until you understand? You are alone. I'll never leave you. I AM you."_

Lex woke up the next morning feeling much less rested than before he went to sleep, but he couldn't take another day off of work. He had a plant to run, employees to protect from his father. He had to work.

At least the work was difficult. It forced him to focus on what he was doing. He didn't have time to wallow in the pain.

Even so, he felt it. It hurt that the Kents didn't trust him. It hurt that they had lied for so long. It hurt that right when he was starting to believe they loved him like a son, he was forced to release any trust in them he'd held onto. And despite everything, it hurt to be away from them. He missed them all terribly.

But if he was honest with himself, what burned the most was the curiosity itself. He was ashamed that that was the hardest part to ignore. Lex found himself spending more time in his Room of Obsession than ever. What could possibly be so bad that the only friends he'd ever had were willing to break his trust to keep their secret? Maybe if he could uncover the truth, he could understand why it was so important to the Kents that Lex never find out.

Some part of him understood the irony of that logic, but he was in too much pain to care.

* * *

Martha abandoned the breakfast dishes and instead joined Jonathan mucking out the stables the next morning.

"Do you think we did the right thing?" she asked.

"I don't know, sweetie. It all happened pretty fast."

"Maybe it happened too slowly. We've been lying to him for a very long time while also telling him he's part of our family."

He sighed. "He's smart enough to know when he's being lied to. I'm surprised it took this long."

"But . . . admitting to lying without telling the truth . . ."

Jonathan paused in his work to turn around and face her. "The way I saw it, we had four options. We could have kept lying to him—"

"—which wouldn't work, after what Clark said."

"Right. We could have told him everything—"

"Would that have been so bad?" Martha shook her head. "He would never betray Clark."

"I don't think he would, but I'm not willing to take that chance while he's fighting Lionel. I don't want to put either of them in danger." Jonathan took a step closer to her. "So I went with a third option. Tell him the truth that the secrets exist, and try to make him understand why we're keeping them."

"You know, if he knew what the secret was, I'm sure he'd understand why we want to keep it."

"I know."

Martha wiped the sweat from her forehead. "So what was the fourth option?"

"Cut him out of our lives entirely." Jonathan shook his head. "But even if I thought it would help, I don't want to do that to him."

"I'm afraid he's going to do that to us."

Jonathan winced, and Martha returned to her work. They'd made their choice. She didn't know what else to say.

They worked in silence for a few minutes. Martha kept having to blink back tears. In a careless moment influenced by that cursed red meteor rock, Clark might have destroyed everything they'd all worked so hard to build. She didn't have to tell him that, though. He'd been pretty torn up the night before over what he'd done.

Martha finally spoke again. "I can't imagine what that voice in his head is telling him right now."

Jonathan stopped working and came over to stand beside her.

"We have to help him," she said. "We _promised_."

He put a hand on her back, rubbing gently.

Martha swallowed hard and let her eyes fall closed as Jonathan pulled her into his arms.

A few moments later, she returned to the house to take care of the dishes she'd neglected. The box of muffins Lex had left behind sat on the table. She remembered the way he had pulled away from her attempt to hug him the night before, and she broke down into tears.

* * *

Jonathan was about to enter into the house to grab some lunch when he spotted Martha through the glass door. She was washing dishes. Tears ran down her face.

He took a step back. His better judgement told him that Lex needed time to cool off, but he couldn't stand to see his wife in this state. He got in his truck and drove to see Lex.

It had been awhile since he'd been at the mansion. He parked his truck on a street and approached the front gate, where the security guard stopped him. "Name and business?"

"I need to talk to Lex."

"Mr. Luthor isn't seeing anyone right now."

"Tell him it's Jonathan Kent."

The security guard kept a stony expression. "Mr. Luthor has revoked entry clearance for you and your family."

Jonathan swallowed hard and rubbed the back of his neck. He turned to go, but the image of Martha's tears filled his mind, and he faced the guard. "Now you listen to me—"

"Mr. Kent." The guard sighed. "I know what you and your family have done for Mr. Luthor. I've seen the boy smiling when he comes back from his visits to your farm. I've served the Luthors for years, and that's something I had never seen before."

Jonathan took a deep breath. "Then let me in."

The guard shook his head. "I have orders to follow."

Jonathan breathed into speak again, but the guard cut him off.

"Take my advice, Mr. Kent: wait it out. The boy is stubborn, but he can't hold a grudge as long as his father can. He'll come around. He's a good kid."

Jonathan just stared at the guard for a moment, then nodded.

* * *

After giving Lex a couple of days to cool off, at the advice of his parents, Clark dropped by the mansion after school to try to apologize again. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if he found out a friend had been lying to him for as long as they'd been friends, especially if the person wouldn't open up about whatever the lies had been about.

But Lex wasn't home, and the mansion security guards sent Clark away. Clark even went down to the plant to see if Lex was there, but the security there said he was in meetings.

Clark left a few messages on Lex's cell phone, sent him an email, and even mailed him a letter. One way or another, he was going to get through to him. He wasn't willing to lose his best friend, the closest thing he'd ever had to a brother.

He found himself disappearing into his thoughts throughout the next school day, drowning in guilt over having hurt his friends so badly. Lana, of course, was still avoiding him, and Chloe was busy with the Torch, so Clark was left alone with Pete during lunch.

"Everything alright, man?"

Clark realized he'd been staring off into space for the millionth time today. "Yeah, just . . . things are kind of tense after everything that happened."

"Your parents are upset with you? Do they know I was the one who gave you the red meteor rock?"

"My parents aren't upset. But Lana isn't speaking with me. Neither is Lex."

Pete rolled his eyes. "Well, _something_ good came out of all this."

Clark turned to look Pete in the eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I've been telling you forever he's bad news, and now he's finally out of your life."

Clark blinked. "Lex isn't out of my life."

"You said he wasn't talking to you."

Clark scoffed. "Neither is Lana, do you think Lana is out of my life?"

"No, but Lana is a kind, forgiving person. She's a real friend. And Lex is . . . you know."

"No, I don't know." Clark crossed his arms. "What is he?"

Pete grimaced. "A _Luthor._ "

Clark swallowed hard. "I think he'll forgive me. Eventually. In the meantime, he's really hurt, and I feel terrible."

Pete shrugged.

Clark fumed. He'd never seen Pete quite like this. "You know, you tried to kill Lex last year. And last week, you ran through the streets yelling that I'm an alien."

"I was infected by meteor rocks and parasites! I don't even remember doing those things."

"Okay, but you also got pretty upset with me when you first found out my secret."

"Yeah, well, can you blame me?"

"No, I forgave you, and you forgave me. Because we're friends."

"What's your point?"

Clark looked away. "Lex is my friend, too. He's always been a good friend to me. And I hurt him, and you're happy about it."

"I just don't trust him, Clark." Pete sighed heavily. "His father—"

"Cheated your father out of the creamed corn factory. I've heard." Clark set his jaw.

"It _ruined_ my family for awhile, Clark! Everything they'd worked for, gone."

"But I don't get it, Pete. Why would you hate Lex for something his father did?"

"Because even if they don't work together anymore, the Luthors are bad for everyone. Their business runs dirty. They pollute the city, they cheat people, and they don't care who they hurt as long as they get what they want."

"That's what Lionel does."

"That's what _Luthors_ do."

Clark suddenly didn't feel hungry. With two of his best friends already upset with him, Clark didn't want to fight with a third, but Pete's prejudice was getting old. "Did you know Lex's father hits him?"

Pete raised his eyebrows. "Is that what he told you?"

It had taken a long time to convince Lex to let Clark even tell his parents about the abuse; by telling Pete, Clark was breaking his trust. The last thing Clark needed was another reason for Lex to be upset with him.

In reality, Lex _hadn't_ told him about the abuse, at least not willingly. Clark had overheard shouting one afternoon as he was walking through the mansion hallways to get to Lex's study, and a moment after it had ended, Mr. Luthor had passed Clark in the hallway. Clark had walked in on Lex sitting on the front edge of his desk, head hung, left cheek bright pink, the side of his lower lip bleeding, eyes squeezed shut in a deep wince. He'd practically jumped out of his skin when Clark called his name, but he wiped away the blood and smiled, greeting Clark like nothing had happened.

Clark pressed his lips together. He shouldn't have said anything at all to Pete, but he was getting awfully sick of keeping secrets from people he cared about. "I'm going to go see if Chloe needs help with the Torch." He stood from the table, emptied his lunch tray into the trash, and left the cafeteria.

As far as Clark knew, no one else was aware that Lex's father was abusing him. That meant Lex would be alone the next time he got hit.

Clark took a deep breath. It would be okay. He was sure Lex would forgive him and rejoin their family by then. How long could he stay angry?

Chloe was busy tapping away at her computer when Clark entered. "Hey, can I get your eyes on something before I print it? I'm not sure if it's—" She looked up from her computer, and her eyes widened. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just—" His voice broke, and he tried again. "Lana's upset with me, and Lex isn't talking to me either, and then Pete and I just started arguing in the cafeteria, and . . ."

She stood and came over to him. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry, Clark."

"I just feel like I keep hurting everyone in my life."

"We all hurt people we care about sometimes."

His eyes stung.

Chloe hesitantly reached up and put a hand on his shoulder, stroking gently.

He blinked a couple of times. "Thanks for being here for me, Chloe."

"You know I always will be, right?"

He swallowed and nodded, and she wrapped her arms around him. He returned the embrace, and he rested.


	32. Partial Control

Lex found his biological half-brother the next week.

At first, he was thrilled at the prospect of having Lucas as family. He'd lost most of his biological family, and having so recently broken ties with his surrogates, the thought of a fresh start with someone new was encouraging and taught him to hope. They'd made plans in a room Lex knew his father never went into. Lucas wasn't exactly the picture of sanity, but he was sharp enough, and they planned together to take over LuthorCorp.

Then Lucas had encountered their father for the first time. Lex didn't know what he was expecting to happen during the reunion, but his father embracing Lucas lovingly would have been his last guess.

Lex's father had hugged him before, but never like that. He always managed to hold any true affection back, somewhere between his hands and Lex's back and shoulders, so that Lex could see it and be taunted by it, but not feel it or receive it. The way his father held Lucas was different—a true embrace. Somehow, for some reason, his father actually loved Lucas.

And it hit him. His father wasn't incapable of love. He just didn't love Lex.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. Lex always told himself his father was incapable of love to make himself feel better, but he knew very well why his father didn't love him. Through his teenage years, it was mostly because of Julian, but it had started earlier than that. As a very young child, it was because he was weak. He'd had asthma, severe anxiety, and a strong tendency to whine and complain. But since the meteor shower, his father had always been a bit disgusted by Lex's disfiguration. Lex suspected it was one reason why his father kept his hair as long as he did—as a slight mockery, always a subtle sting.

The sting of watching his father hold Lucas in his arms was anything but subtle, as was the feeling of betrayal when Lucas sided with his father and kicked Lex out of the mansion.

Lex knew the Kents would take him in if he asked for a place to stay. They'd probably be thrilled to have him. But he couldn't go to them. Instead, he ended up draining the cash he carried on his person for a cheap motel room, and rationing the remaining small bills carefully to be able to eat until he could work things out with Lucas.

But he didn't end up having to take the initiative to reach out. Lucas came and found him in his motel room. The kid had a plan to get back at their father. It was a strange plan—definitely the work of a psychopath—but it would work.

* * *

When it was all over, Lex sat in his study looking over an article about how his father had miraculously regained his sight. In the midst of the overwhelming number of lies Lex had been fed by people he was supposed to be able to trust, this one barely fazed him. He only felt stupid for not having noticed earlier.

His father walked in as the movers were undoing Lucas's changes to the study. Lex remarked dryly about his father' deception, but his father was much more preoccupied in ensuring that Lex would keep silent about Lucas. The one good thing that came out of the whole situation was that his father gave him LexCorp back.

Lex was about to leave the study to try to sleep—it would be useless, but he could try—when his father called after him once more.

"Before Lucas called, Clark Kent dropped by the mansion. Looking for you. Asked me to tell you."

Lex's heart jumped. Clark wasn't supposed to be able to get into the mansion anymore. Lex had told security to revoke the Kents's unconditional clearance as soon as they'd had their falling out. His phone had told him that he had messages from Clark, as well as from Mr. and Mrs. Kent, but Lex deleted them, along with the emails. He didn't want to hear any more lies.

Lex did his best to sound uninterested. "Oh yeah?"

His father nodded. "You know he was the one who rescued Lucas from those shooters?"

Lucas hadn't mentioned that. "No, I didn't."

"Really. I'd have thought he would have told you, seeing as you're such good friends."

Lex looked away. He hated the fact that his father would be able to read what had happened in his facial expression, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"Ah." His father nodded. "That explains your sullen disposition of late."

Lex set his jaw. Even though he wasn't associating with the Kents anymore, he didn't think it was safe for his father to know too much about the relationship he'd had with them. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"During her brief tenure as my assistant, Martha Kent did her best to conceal her interest, but she was all too obviously quite concerned your wellbeing. You and Clark had been inseparable. It doesn't take a genius to fill in the blanks." He smirked. "You fancied yourself a part of their family."

Lex swallowed hard. "It doesn't matter. That's all over now."

"Because you realized you couldn't trust them."

Lex squinted a little. Apparently, his father also knew something he didn't. Maybe Clark had let something slip.

"I'm . . . sorry, to hear that things ended so sourly, son. But I can't say I'm surprised. I have to wonder what drew their family to you in the first place."

"I don't know." Lex turned to start walking away.

"Or for that matter, what drew you to them."

Lex turned back to face him. "They gave me something you never did. They made me feel like I was worth something."

His father raised his eyebrows. "Then you should have realized you couldn't trust them from the beginning."

Lex flinched, his throat closing up for a moment.

His father chuckled. "Good night, Lex."

Lex left the study without replying, retreating to his room for the night.

The insinuations about Lex's worthlessness hurt a little worse than usual, since he'd come close to believing Jonathan Kent's claims to the contrary. But much more overwhelming was the sense that his father knew something he didn't. It felt more than ever like Lex's entire life was made of lies; he was completely lost as to who and what he could believe. That kind of feeling of powerlessness always worked the darkness into a state that Lex had an especially hard time controlling.

 _"You're out of your depth,"_ it whispered. Its inaudible voice felt gentler than it ever had before.

He laid on his back over his covers on the bed. "Then you tell me," he whispered. "What do I do?"

It laughed. _"You're asking me for advice."_

"Yes." He rubbed his face. "Because you're stronger than me."

_"You know why that is, don't you?"_

He sighed, exhausted. For the first time, they were having a conversation rather than an argument, and it still taunted him. "Enlighten me."

_"Because you feed on love, and I feed on anger. You're weak because you're starving. And you'll always be starving."_

The implication seared. Lex rolled onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut.

It was quiet for a moment, and when the voice spoke again, it was gentle. _"Why don't you let me drive for a bit?"_

"No."

_"You want the truth, don't you?"_

"Y-yes."

_"Then give me partial control. Just enough to do some more investigating."_

Lex sat up straight, reaching for his phone. He was supposed to call Mrs. Kent when the voice told him to do something he knew was wrong, or if he wasn't sure . . .

He dropped the phone onto his bed. He couldn't trust her. "How do I know I can trust you?"

_"Because I am you."_

"So you say," Lex muttered.

Lex picked back up the phone and stared at it for a long time. He tried to remember what it sounded like when Mrs. Kent had told him she loved him. How he'd felt when Mr. Kent told him they'd be devastated if anything happened to him. It was all garbled in his mind, tainted by lies, cheapened by broken trust, darkened by his father's reminders. All he could hear was Clark's insults and taunts from the other day. When he closed his eyes, he couldn't feel the comfort that Mrs. Kent's arms around him had once been, but he could feel Clark's solid hand against his shoulder, shoving him hard across the barn.

 _"I'm not asking you to trust_ _me,"_ the voice said. _"I'm asking for partial control. We'll drive together."_

Lex took a deep breath. At least this way, he could find the truth.

"Okay," he said finally.


	33. Medical File

The Kent family had spent far too many days in the hospital over the last year. It never got any easier.

It was Martha this time. Jonathan and Clark had rushed her to the hospital after she fainted in the kitchen. Jonathan made Clark leave the hospital shortly after they'd arrived. It was no help for both of them to stand around panicking, and for as long as Clark was around, Jonathan would have to be the strong one. He didn't think he could hold up for long.

Jonathan found himself alternating between pacing the hallways outside Martha's hospital room, flipping through magazines in the lobby, and sitting beside her, holding her hand and praying that, after everything they'd been through, this wouldn't be what finally took her from him. When he was sure no nurses or doctors would be coming by to check on her for awhile, he let himself cry into the back of her wrist as she slept. She'd said before that she would be lost without him, but it didn't begin to compare to how utterly lost he would be without her.

Minutes after he'd dried his tears, Dr. Bryce called Jonathan out of Martha's room to talk to him. It occurred to him to wonder, just for a moment, whether Lex had told her about their fall out. If she knew anything, she didn't let it affect the way she talked to him—she was as professional as ever.

"I've sent her blood sample to Metropolis for further testing," Dr. Bryce said. "But I have to be honest with you, I'm concerned. For both Martha and the health of her baby."

Jonathan turned to face her. At first, he didn't feel anything but disbelief. It was impossible. "Baby?"

Dr. Bryce blinked. "You didn't know?"

"There must be some . . . kind of mistake. The doctor said she could never have a baby."

"I asked your GP to fax over Martha's medical records. There's no mistake."

Dr. Bryce disappeared down the hallway, leaving the news to sink in.

The first thing that entered Jonathan's mind was that he was going to have a third son.

He remembered that it could be a daughter before it even occurred to him to second guess his count of how many kids he had. He wasn't sure whether to count the one who had apparently disowned them.

The child would grow up around their secrets, and they'd have to figure out how to deal with that. Clark would have to be careful not to use his abilities around his little brother or sister, which meant they'd have to call the child inside and distract him any time Clark needed to finish his chores quickly. Eventually, the child would start to notice that things got done impossibly fast, or wander into the storm cellar, or ask the wrong questions to the right people, and the Kents would have to make a tough decision.

Jonathan had waited until Clark was fourteen to show him the spaceship. Some days, Jonathan felt like he should have waited a couple more years, but in the years leading up, he felt more like he'd waited for too long.

What was the right age to bring Clark's little brother or sister into their secrets?

Jonathan grimaced. They'd never told Clark's older "brother" the truth, and as disastrous as the results of that had been, Jonathan still wasn't entirely convinced they had made a mistake. Jonathan had believed strongly that they could keep Lex safe from his dark side in the long run, but he'd also seen what could happen in the momentary lapses. It would take time to rebuild trust. If he was honest with himself, though, keeping the secret from Lex had more to do with Lionel than Lex himself.

Their new child wouldn't be fighting such a dangerous battle, either with his father or with his own mind, which meant it was a little less complicated.

Besides, they had years to figure out what to do with their youngest child. No doubt, there would be danger, and fear, and struggle. One more person for them to protect, both from the dangers of Clark's secret itself, and the emotional turmoil that would come along with their having to lie to him in the meantime.

And yet he couldn't imagine anything more beautiful and joyful than having another son or daughter.

He stepped back into the room and knelt down beside his wife.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, "you have to wake up. You just have to. I can't do this without you." Jonathan couldn't imagine living and parenting without her: mourning both the loss of his wife and his baby, and then for years afterwards, guiding Clark through impossible life decisions with terrible consequences, keeping him safe while trying to maintaining their promise to Clark's best friend who wanted nothing to do with them because of decisions they'd made. "I need you."

He moved his hand down to her stomach, stroking gently. "Don't you worry," he whispered. "Your mom's a fighter. You're going to be just fine."

* * *

When Lex heard that Mrs. Kent was sick, his first instinct was to go check in on her. It was what he had done for all of Clark's friends and family members for so long, and the thought of something happening to her, especially with how they'd left things, kept him awake even later into the night than he usually was.

Actually, his normal tactic was to call in specialists to help deal with the problem, but he couldn't do that without insulting Helen. Before long, though, the disease control agency ended up getting called in anyway. Apparently it was some mysterious toxin.

As much as Lex wanted to, he couldn't visit. The darkness didn't want him to, and it wouldn't leave him alone about it. It tried to convince him they wouldn't want to see him anyway, after he'd pulled away from them for weeks; it reminded him he couldn't trust them, after they'd lied for months; it said there was nothing he could do to help anyway; it told him they'd want to be alone, as a family, which Lex wasn't a part of.

Lex knew his mind was playing tricks on him, but the tricks worked. He knew that if he went to visit, the Kents would either push him away, or try to be kind to him again, and he didn't know which was worse.

Then Clark fell ill.

Lex would have been ashamed to admit that his curiosity spiked even more than his fear, but part of that was because he really wasn't convinced Clark _could_ die. The fact that Clark had gotten sick at all made him especially worried for Mrs. Kent, but the darkness in him was fixated on what that toxin might be.

 _"This is good,"_ the darkness told him when he was alone in his study. _"This will be a major clue in my investigation. Let's a_ _sk Helen what she knows."_

"She doesn't know anything."

_"She might. Jonathan does, and he might tell her."_

"I could ask him directly." Some part of Lex was getting desperate for an excuse to talk to them, even if he was afraid to do so.

_"No, don't bother. He'll lie, remember? He always lies to you. If he knows anything, he'll tell Helen."_

Lex paced in his study. Helen would be arriving any minute. He almost wished she wouldn't. He didn't want to take advantage of her, but he could feel that he was going to lose this fight with his darker half.

She entered just then, setting her coat over the arm of his couch. "What a day," she muttered.

"Yeah?" He stepped forward and kissed her. He loved the way she kissed—her passion increased with each week they dated. "I heard about the toxin."

"I've never encountered anything like it."

"Oh?"

"Well, I can't say much, but I guess you'll find out sooner or later. Both Clark and Martha were getting progressively worse, and they both made a full recovery tonight."

Lex felt the tension in his shoulders drain considerably. Only then did he realize how much he had really worried about them. He felt like he could burst out laughing or crying or both.

 _"Now,"_ the voice interjected.

Lex straightened up. "So, what happened?"

"Ah . . ." She took a half step back. "I really don't know much. And I can't really talk about what I do know."

"The Kents are my friends. They won't mind."

She raised her eyebrows. "Lex, I take my doctor-patient confidentiality very seriously."

Disproportionate rage pulsed through his body. It took a half second for Lex to realize it wasn't his own anger, not exactly. He was feeling what the darkness felt. He forced his voice to remain calm, and he caressed her arm. "Of course. I wouldn't expect anything different," he said.

She smiled and kissed him again.

* * *

Long after Helen had gone to bed, Lex paced in his Room of Obsession, looking around at all the evidence he'd collected.

_"Helen knows something."_

"At least she isn't telling any lies." That part was comforting. She'd just told him that she couldn't talk about her patients. With the single exception regarding whether she'd ever encountered his father, Helen had been honest with him throughout their relationship, and Lex loved her for that.

_"Martha's medical file will have the answers you're looking for."_

"Helen will never let me see it."

_"Then steal the file."_

Lex's insides squirmed. That was the kind of thing he knew how to do—it would be an easy matter to blackmail another doctor with access to the files, but he didn't usually use blackmail for simple convenience. He reserved it for emergencies, to protect himself and those he cared about in extreme circumstances.

 _"This IS an extreme circumstance,"_ the voice insisted. _"This could be a chance to learn the truth."_

He knew it was probably right. A mysterious illness, a miraculous healing—it screamed of untold secrets. Mr. Kent had strongly implied it was all connected, which meant Lex probably didn't need to solve every single part of it. One answer could open the gateway to many.

But then he thought about how he'd felt the moment Helen told him that Clark and his mother were healed. The relief had been overwhelming, and if he was honest with himself, it was the most intense and genuine joy he'd felt in a long time.

He just wanted to tell them how glad he was that they were okay.

 _"Focus on what's important,"_ the voice said.

"I am," Lex told it. "I'm going home."

 _"They won't tell you what you want to know. And they're not your family."_ He could feel it growing desperate. _"They'll lie to you again! They'll pretend to care about you, and they'll convince you to forgive the lies and stop looking for the truth!"_

"Maybe. But I just want to see them."

And before it could say anything else, he grabbed his car keys.


	34. The Caves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Direct quotes from 2x17, Rosetta. I only keep posting these notes to sort of "cite" my sources, and because I'm guessing some of you like keeping track of where I'm at in the series, especially for the chapters where it's not obvious.

Lex was halfway to the Kent farm when he spotted someone out on the road ahead.

He only just managed to skid to a stop before his car reached the cowering figure. He jumped out of the car, ready to start in on apologies or excuses or questions, depending on the look on the person's face, but then he recognized him.

"Clark?"

Clark jumped to his feet. "How did I get here?"

Lex blinked. "Funny, I was just going to ask you that."

Clark squinted in the bright headlights.

_"Make him answer."_

Lex ignored the voice. It wasn't hard. After having worried about Clark during his illness, the affection he felt for the boy he'd once considered a brother far overwhelmed any lingering anger. He put an arm around Clark to steady him. "Come on, I'll give you a ride home."

Clark nodded and let Lex help him to the passenger door.

"You okay? You're not hurt?" Lex asked as they drove.

"I'm fine," Clark said, and his face clouded over in the same way it always had when he'd been hiding something.

Lex swallowed and tried to focus on the road. "Do your parents know where you are?"

"No," Clark said softly.

"What were you doing out there?"

"I . . . sleepwalking."

The affectionate feelings died away suddenly. "Thought you weren't going to lie to me anymore."

"It's not a lie." He sighed. "I know it's not the whole truth, but it's not a lie. I'm not going to lie to you anymore."

_"See if you can get him to let something slip."_

"Does this have anything to do with the caves?" Lex asked.

Clark stiffened.

_"Way to go. Could you have been more obvious about it?"_

Lex was silent. He'd blown his opportunity, and they had almost reached the house.

_"Say something, he's about to leave!"_

Lex clenched his teeth as he pulled up to the house. "Are your parents going to be upset?"

"I hope not." Clark unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to Lex. "You could always come back for dinner tomorrow night and find out."

Lex stared at his hands on the steering wheel. He could. He'd get to see them again, like he wanted so badly, and he could ask them questions, see if he could get them to let on anything they knew.

 _"They'll see through you. They'll talk you out of investigating, they'll_ lie _to you."_

"We miss you," Clark said softly. "Mom cries a lot, but I guess that's partly because of the pregnancy."

"Pregnancy?" Lex couldn't keep his surprise contained. He didn't know exactly how old Mrs. Kent was, but he wouldn't have guessed she would be trying for a baby.

"We only found out last week." Clark grinned. "I'm going to have a brother or sister."

Something about that comment hit Lex hard. The Kents were going to have another child. He wondered if they'd lie to their real child the way they had lied to Lex. The thought that they might lie to the child hurt; the thought that they might tell him the truth hurt even more.

"My parents would love to see you," Clark said. "Can you come by tomorrow?"

Lex shook his head. "Meetings at the plant."

"Okay. Maybe another day."

"Maybe." He was going to say _sure_ , but he decided against lying.

Clark sighed and stepped out of the car. "Where were you headed, anyway?"

Lex breathed in to tell him the whole truth, but found he couldn't do it. Seeing Clark again had reminded him all too vividly what the lies felt like. "It doesn't matter anymore. What matters is you're home safe."

Clark sighed and closed the door behind himself.

* * *

The next day, a guard approached Lex on his way to the caves. "There's been an explosion, sir."

"What happened?"

"We're still trying to figure that out. We're recommending you stay clear until—"

Lex ignored the rest of the guard's speech and stepped past him, jogging down into the caves. A crumpled figure laid on the ground. Lex didn't have to look to know who it was.

He rushed over, kneeling down. Clark didn't appear to be bleeding anywhere, but if there really had been an explosion, there was no way he would be uninjured.

Lex gently shook Clark's shoulder. "Clark, are you okay?"

"Lex. What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. What were you doing down here?"

Clark looked up at the cave walls. He seemed to be looking for something. Then he stood. "I was just finishing up some work for Dr. Walden, I figured I'd do it while it was quiet. The next thing I know, you're shaking me awake."

"The guard said there was an explosion. You didn't touch any equipment, did you?" Lex didn't think Dr. Walden was using anything dangerous or explosive, but he couldn't think of anything else that would have caused an explosion at all.

"I find it interesting that you managed to get around the guard in the first place." Dr. Walden had just arrived. He kept his eyes on Clark. "What's your secret, Mr. Kent?"

So Clark hadn't been doing work for Dr. Walden. Another lie. Lex wanted to join Dr. Walden in his questions, but Clark really didn't look good, and he'd passed out in the explosion. "Back off, Doctor," Lex said. "Can't you see he's been hurt?"

"I'm okay," Clark said. "I just need to get some air."

Lex followed him out of the cave. "Clark, first I find you lying in the middle of the road and now here. I really think you should get to the hospital."

"Lex, I'm fine. I just gotta get home before my parents start to worry."

Lex shook his head. "You know, your dad said you weren't going to lie to me anymore."

"I'm not lying."

Lex's jaw pulsed. "Doing work for Dr. Walden?"

Clark sighed. "Sorry, old habits. I might not have actually talked to Dr. Walden about what I was doing."

The darkness chimed in: _"You actually trusted these people."_

"I'm sorry. Look . . ." Clark winced. "Okay, I know a _little_ about the caves. But even if I could tell you what I know, I don't think it would help you very much."

"Can you read the symbols?"

"No."

"Are you lying again?"

"No! I told you, Lex, I'm not going to lie to you!"

As far as Lex knew, that wasn't Clark's usual dishonest voice, but Lex really had no idea how to tell anymore. He sighed. "Go home, Clark. Get some rest."

Clark gave him a sad look. "Come with me."

"I've got to work."

"Please, Lex. Mom misses you."

Longing filled him. It was a sharp pain. With effort, he said, "Maybe later."

Clark sighed heavily and walked away, and Lex returned to the caves.

* * *

Lex dropped by the Talon later that day. Lana's presence was refreshing and kept the darkness quiet, and he made a habit of supporting her as often as he could, but most of the reason he came today was because he knew Clark would stop by at some point. It seemed that his darkness was much more interested in keeping Lex away from the Kent parents than Clark. Clark might let some useful information slip, while his parents were much more likely to lure Lex back into a false sense of security.

Clark was already there when Lex arrived at the Talon. He was sitting at a table and scribbling something on a piece of paper. As Lex walked toward the front register, Clark crumpled up the paper he was writing on and tossed it toward a trash can. He missed.

Lex waited until he was gone, then went over and picked it up.

Cave symbols.

Anger and pain surged through him. Unless Clark had miraculously discovered an ability to read and write in the cave's language since he and Lex had last talked, Clark had lied to him _again._ All the while promising never to do so.

_"You idiot."_

Lex folded the crinkled paper carefully and shoved it into his pocket. He kept his jaw set and his back straight.

_"YOU IDIOT!"_

He swallowed hard, consciously reminding himself not to flinch.

_"No more playing around, Lex. You're letting me take over the investigations."_

He knew he wasn't going to win this argument. He put his hands in his pockets and headed out of the Talon.

_"I'm going to steal that medical file from when Martha was sick. No more secrets. We're solving this once and for all."_

"Okay," Lex mouthed. He turned to leave the Talon, even though he had just arrived.

He was done fighting. He just wanted the pain to stop. Learning the truth was his only shot at making that happen.


	35. Precipice

Lex added Mrs. Kent's medical file to his Room of Obsession, but since stealing it, he hadn't had time to look it over thoroughly. He had worse problems to deal with.

Helen's ex-boyfriend, Paul Hayden, came into town. According to Helen, he'd beaten the girlfriend he had before her, and she'd broken things off before she became his next victim.

When Hayden started stalking Helen, Lex's darker side didn't have to suggest killing him. It was already on his mind, especially when he showed up at the hospital badly injured and tried to pin it on Lex. Helen almost believed him, too, and Lex didn't blame her, since he'd been so seriously considering committing the crime of which Hayden was now accusing him.

Lex tried to keep his mind off it. He knew Helen could take care of herself, and that eventually she would figure out what had really happened. He focused on his work at the plant, and he filled up some of his spare time taking care of Lana and helping her learn to defend herself—she'd been attacked at the Talon, and she was jumping out of her skin every time she heard a noise behind her. Working with her in the mat room was the longest his other side had spent in silence since before Lex's fallout with the Kents. He was starting to think maybe he could fight it without them.

Then Hayden attacked Helen.

It was the first time in his life that Lex fully believed his darker side when it said they were one and the same. Lex only just managed to arrive in time to find her, broken and bloodied, an inch from death. Once he was sure that the doctors had what they needed to save her, he grabbed two guns and tracked down Hayden.

Somehow, Clark got involved, as he always did when something dangerous was happening in Smallville, or something immensely personal in Lex's life. Lex wondered if part of Clark's secret involved some kind of magic radar for trouble. Lex managed to shake Clark off just before reaching Hayden.

Lex and Hayden fought in an abandoned train car. Lex was thankful he'd been practicing hand-to-hand combat recently, or he might have lost the fight. Finally, he stood over Hayden with the gun, finger on the trigger.

His hands shook.

A long silence passed before the voice screamed, _"Do it!"_

Hayden deserved it. He was a predator.

_"Then do it!"_

No one would know it hadn't been self defense.

_"He almost killed Helen!"_

This was for Helen. The woman he loved. The woman who had forgiven so many of his faults already.

_"NOW, LEX."_

She deserved better than Lex. Better than a murderer.

He couldn't do it. He wouldn't.

He hit Hayden in the face with the gun. Clark entered a moment later, and the Sheriff a few second after that. Lex was able to claim he was just making a citizen's arrest.

He could see in Clark's eyes that Clark didn't believe him, but he didn't care.

 _"What was the point in that?"_ The darkness berated Lex non-stop on the car ride back from the scene with Hayden. _"You should have killed Hayden!"_

"I couldn't," Lex said aloud. "Helen would know it wasn't self defense."

_"He tried to kill her! She would want him dead, too!"_

"I don't think she would. And she deserves better than a murderer."

_"I've killed before."_

"That was in defense."

_"Julian wasn't."_

Lex was silent for a long time. He didn't have any excuse for that. The truth was, he had no idea why he had killed Julian. He didn't even remember doing it. He had only a vague memory of his father hitting him in the face so hard that he'd fallen and hit his head. "That was an accident," he finally said. "Killing Hayden would have just been a crime."

_"Keeping yourself pure for her, Lex? What's the point in that?"_

"LEAVE ME ALONE. I love her. I don't want to hurt her."

Miraculously, the voice was silent after that.

As much as he still pined after the Kents and missed them every day, maybe he didn't need them to help him fight his darker side. Maybe he just needed Helen.

That was when he knew.

He proposed to her the next night. Her eyes sparkled when he revealed the ring and asked the question. He couldn't remember ever having been so radiantly happy in his entire life as he was in that moment.

As she caressed his face and kissed him, slowly and passionately, it crossed his mind, just for a brief moment, that he was going to have a wedding party of exactly zero.

* * *

Clark looked shaken when he returned from the hospital, where he'd gone to check and make sure Helen was okay. Martha sat him down at the kitchen table to decompress and busied herself in the kitchen for a little while to give him time to process. While Lex always wanted to talk as soon as he reached the house—if he was going to talk at all, that was—Clark tended towards needing time to think before he could express himself.

Martha was really starting to worry about Clark. Worrying about Lex was a given—it had been almost two months since Martha had been able to contact him—but that time had been awfully hard on Clark as well, even aside from missing his brother.

First, there had been his conflicts with Lana, which she knew affected him more than he let on. There was the week she'd spent sick and dying in the hospital, and he'd ended up with the same illness she had. There had been the message from the spaceship, which had made Clark the second of her sons to worry he might be destined for evil. Then he'd thought he found someone from Krypton, which turned out to be false, and finally, Lana had been attacked at the Talon.

Throughout everything, Martha held her youngest son, made sure he was eating, and encouraged him as much as she could, but it was just too much stress. It wasn't good for him. And her sympathetic stress for both Clark and Lex couldn't be good for the baby, either

But today, Clark's expression was different. It wasn't the exhausted, weighed-down look he'd taken up lately. It was more of a disturbed look, like he'd seen something he didn't want to see.

It took effort not to gather him into her arms and ask him to open up right away, but Martha left him alone to think until Jonathan had entered the room. Jonathan gave Clark's shoulders a couple of pats before sitting down across from him, and Martha sat beside him.

Clark looked back and forth between his parents. "Have either of you been able to talk to Lex?"

Martha shook her head. "We've tried, sweetie. He doesn't want to talk to us, and we can't force him."

"Did you see him tonight?" Jonathan asked.

Clark nodded, looking away from both of them. "I saw him standing over Paul Hayden with a gun."

Martha's jaw dropped. She felt sick.

Jonathan's eyebrows knitted. "Paul Hayden . . . he's the one who attacked Helen?"

"That's what Lex said," Clark said.

Martha's voice caught in her throat. "W-what happened? Did he shoot him?"

"No. It looked like he'd just knocked him out with the gun. Sheriff Adams showed up to arrest Paul after that, and Lex said he was making a citizen's arrest. But Mom, if you saw the look in his eyes . . ." Clark shook his head.

She gently covered his hand with hers.

"Did you get to talk to him?" Jonathan asked.

"No. He still didn't want to talk to me." Clark swallowed hard. "Lex and Paul were fighting inside this train car. I looked inside with my x-ray vision, and one of them was standing over the other with an axe. I don't know who was who, but I slammed the train car so they both fell. Then I ran inside, and that's when I saw Lex with the gun."

Martha took a deep breath. It sounded like either Lex had been defending himself, or he really had simply gone after Helen's attacker. She really couldn't say which was more likely.

"Did he look hurt?" She couldn't help but ask.

"No," Clark said. "He didn't look good, though. I'm worried about him."

"I know, sweetie."

"If I hadn't said all those things to him when I was on red kryptonite—"

"Clark, it's not your fault." Jonathan had switched into his authoritative voice. "This was going to happen eventually."

"So, what? Is this going to happen with all of my friends? I don't want to be alone, Dad."

"I know, son," Jonathan said. "And you won't be alone. Some of your friends will be like Pete, and they'll find out your secret anyway. And they'll be loyal to you until the end. Some will be like Lana. You'll struggle, but at the end of the day, you'll always care about each other. Some will be like Chloe—Chloe knows you're not telling her everything, and she's asked some questions, but she's okay with the parts of you she knows." He sighed. "And some will be like Lex. They'll have . . . difficulty with trust, and you'll have to part ways for awhile until they can sort out their thoughts."

Clark grimaced. "So unless I want to endanger myself and them, I can only be close with people who are okay with being lied to."

Martha's eyes fell closed. She knew that wasn't what Jonathan had meant, but it was too close to the truth for her to deny.

"Come here." Martha took his arm and stood beside him, and waited for him to stand as well. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

"I miss Lex," he whispered.

"Me too, baby." She rubbed his back, aware of the irony of the endearment, considering he was towering over her.

He let go after a minute and stepped back. "I have to catch up on homework. I'll be in the loft," he said.

"Okay," Jonathan said. "And son?"

Clark looked up at him.

"You're not alone. You will _always_ have us."

Clark half smiled. "Thanks, Dad." He left through the side door.

Martha turned to Jonathan, who was still seated at the table. "I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing."

Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. "This kind of parenting is a bit over both of our heads."

"I feel like we've failed both our kids."

Jonathan's brow furrowed. "Martha . . ."

"Clark's brokenhearted. And I don't think Lex is going to come back."

"You don't know that."

"I broke my promise to him." Her voice cracked.

"I heard the promise you made," Jonathan said. "You said you'd be there to pick up the pieces. You were there for him for as long as he let you."

"I promised I'd never let him fall." Her eyes stung, for what felt like the millionth time in the past month. "I promised I'd never let the darkness take him over."

"You don't know that it has, sweetheart."

"It's been almost two months. And he almost killed someone today."

Jonathan's face was blank. "We tried. We did everything we could do."

She shook her head over and over. She hadn't promised she would try. She'd promised she would save him.

"You were right, Jonathan," Martha said. "You were right all along."

He looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

"He needed more help than we could give. Why did we think we could help him?"

His jaw tensed.

"He's not coming back, Jonathan. We failed."

Something shifted in Jonathan's eyes. He stood suddenly, grabbing the fruit basket from the center of the table and throwing it across the room, where apples and oranges flew.

"Jonathan!"

"He's going to come home, Martha, he _has_ to."

Martha's breath caught.

"You _loved_ that kid. Heck, _I_ loved him."

"We were never going to be able to save him. We were always bound to hurt ourselves trying."

"I don't _care!_ " He threw aside a chair, which clattered to the floor. "If we even bought him a couple of weeks, that was worth . . . _any_ amount of pain . . ." Jonathan paced, running his hands through his hair.

Martha hadn't seem him this angry and violent since he found the watch Lionel had given her. That time, she'd been scared of him. Right now, she felt like she'd never loved him more.

"He was our son, he . . ." Jonathan came to a stop at the table and rested both hands on it, breathing hard.

Her head hung, and warm tears slid down her face.

"Can't we force him? We'd never let Clark avoid us for this long. We'd go after him with green kryptonite."

She shook her head. "Clark's still a kid. Lex is an adult."

"But . . ." Jonathan rubbed his face. "They're both our sons."

"I know."

His eyes shone. "I want my son back, Martha."

"I know." Slowly, hesitantly, Martha stepped into his arms and buried her face in his chest. "I know."


	36. Obsession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place shortly after the time of 2x19, Precipice, but it actually contains a few direct quotes from 3x22, Covenant. I own neither.

Clark was done with this fight.

It had been a long week for him. Shortly after finding out his home planet had been destroyed, he found someone who believed he was from Krypton, but it turned out to have been a misunderstanding. Then after witnessing Lex almost kill someone, he'd overheard his parents yelling and crying about it. They didn't sound like they were arguing, but it had been a long time since they'd been so distressed.

Despite his father's assurances, Clark felt more alone than ever. Things were still awkward with Lana. Things weren't great with Pete, either; his harsh comments about Lex were still fresh on Clark's mind, and he hadn't been able to bring up the issue. Even his friendship with Chloe had gotten uncomfortable—she'd been fighting with Lana about something, and then she'd wanted to talk with Clark about the possibility of aliens, and he had to shut her down. And of course, Lex still wouldn't talk to him, or to anyone in their family.

But Clark thought Lex was the one person he might be able to make things right with, and he felt he owed it to Lex to do so. Clark had lied again, even though it had been unintentional. He insisted to Lex that he couldn't read the cave symbols, not knowing that the cave had just taught him to read the symbols.

He could set the record straight if he told Lex the truth.

He didn't run his plans by his parents. He had no idea what they would say, and he didn't care. He hadn't asked their permission before telling Pete his secret, and his parents had gotten used to the idea. Even if his parents were upset, Clark couldn't imagine them doling out a punishment that was worse than the loss of Lex's friendship.

So Clark went to visit Lex that Saturday. Security wouldn't let Clark into the mansion, but this time, Clark didn't let them stop him. He sped past and jumped the fence when they weren't looking.

Lex wasn't in his study or his bedroom. Clark searched down a few hallways, peeking into the open doors, then doubled back and searched the rooms where the doors had been closed.

He sighed when he reached his starting point. The mansion was big enough that Lex could have switched rooms while Clark was searching and Clark would have missed him entirely. He didn't want to be caught using his super speed, though.

There was one room he hadn't checked. It was locked, and as many times as Clark had been over to the mansion, he was pretty sure he'd never seen the door open.

He never would have done it if he weren't so desperate to find Lex. Clark broke the lock.

Lex wasn't inside the room, but Clark could immediately see why Lex would keep it locked.

It was a dark room, lit only by a few screens. There were pictures of the cave walls, as well as of Clark and his parents. One computer screen held a rotating image of the octagonal key; another showed a repeated animated simulation of Lex's car hitting Clark on the bridge over the river. There were a few items out on display as well—Clark recognized mementos from a few of his debacles over the past couple of years, and a small sample of Kryptonite glowed behind glass. A folder sat on a table—it appeared to be his mom's medical file.

He couldn't believe he'd trusted Lex so much that he almost confided in him. How could Lex _dare_ to condemn his family for lying when he was doing _this?_

"Before you jump to conclusions, Clark—"

Clark turned around to face Lex, who had just entered the room. "You told me you stopped investigating me."

"I did."

"You did? Then what is this?"

"I understand how you can think all this is about you. But in fact, it's about me."

"More lies," Clark spat.

Lex glanced around at the room. "There's so much of my own life I can't explain. I've survived countless brushes with death, and it all started with this car crash. Then your dad confirmed for me that it's all connected—my survival, the caves, the octagon, you." He shook his head. "If I'm guilty of anything, it's that I've inherited my father's eccentric curiosity for the unexplained."

"You've inherited his dishonesty."

Lex flinched. "Clark, I'm not the only one who keeps secrets. You've even told me that."

Clark stared at Lex for a long time. He could feel his blood pressure rising in his ears. "Ever since I met you, I've been defending you, making excuses for you to people like Pete. Telling them, 'You can trust Lex Luthor. He's a good guy. He's nothing like his father.' I was wrong."

Lex's voice raised. "And what about your father, Clark? Model citizen, salt of the earth—or so everyone thinks. Maybe I'm the only one who knows the truth. The Luthors don't have a monopoly on deception, Clark. In fact, I'd say the Kents have the market cornered."

It happened so fast. Clark's fist shot out and connected with Lex's mouth.

Lex whirled around with the force and clutched his face, stumbling back. He gasped, wiping blood from his lip.

Clark was gearing back for another punch when he flashed back to that time he'd walked in on Lex after his father had backhanded him. He had bled in the same place then.

Guilt joined the anger in Clark's mind. He dropped his fist and turned to go. He heard a couple of footsteps behind him, like Lex had started follow him but given up.

* * *

Martha was just wrapping up breakfast dishes when Clark came in through the side door and plunked down at the kitchen table.

His face betrayed a mix of emotions—anger, pain, guilt, conflict. His shoulders slouched, and there was blood on his knuckles.

"Clark, are you alright?" She sat down across from him, picked up his hand, and examined the marks, but quickly realized there were no cuts in his skin. Someone else's blood, then. "What happened?"

"I went to visit Lex."

She swallowed hard. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"He . . . he betrayed us." His eyes watered. "But I think I messed up, too."

She picked up a napkin from the table, stood to wet it at the sink, then sat back down to wipe the blood away from Clark's knuckles. "Tell me about it, sweetie."

He took a deep breath. "Security wouldn't let me in, so I sped past them and searched the mansion. He wasn't in any of the open rooms, so I broke into the one that was locked, and . . . he'd filled an entire room with evidence about my secret."

It took Martha a moment to respond. She had known that not knowing the answers to his questions was bothering Lex, but she had no idea how much. She also knew he'd been investigating her family, but she didn't realize how in depth the investigations had been.

"Then he walked in, and we argued, and I . . . I told him he was like his father."

Martha's jaw dropped, her heart sinking. "W-what did he say when you asked him to explain why he had everything in that room?"

Clark's brow furrowed. "I didn't ask."

She set down the napkin. "Then how—"

"He _betrayed_ us, Mom! He's been collecting evidence on me ever since I've been friends with him."

She nodded. "You knew about the investigations."

"He said he stopped!"

"I know, sweetie." It wasn't going to be helpful to bring up the fact that Lex probably meant he'd stopped sending private investigators after them, not that he would get rid of all evidence he encountered. Clark felt hurt and betrayed, and she needed to meet him where he was. "I know how frustrating that must be."

"I thought he was my friend."

She placed a gentle hand on his. "Did he say anything to try to explain himself?"

"He started accusing _us_ of lying to him. Then I got really mad, and—" He swallowed hard. "I punched him. Really hard."

She took a deep breath, not wanting to ask the next question, but knowing she needed to, given her son's powers: "Is he alive?"

"Yeah. There was a little Kryptonite in the room, so I was weaker than I usually am."

Martha let out a sigh of relief. A part of her wanted to scold him right away for losing control of his anger—they'd talked to him before about how dangerous it could be to lash out, how it could lead to decisions that would ruin his life—but his emotions were already in turmoil. He was still hurting badly from what he perceived as Lex's betrayal, as well as the way Lex had insulted him; he was drowning in guilt for having lost control and hurting his friend; and she was sure some part of him was still worried about the longer-standing fight that he hadn't managed to resolve.

One thing she knew: she didn't want to handle this one alone.

"Clark, why don't you go up to your room? I'm going to talk to your father about this."

Clark's eyes widened a little. "Am I in trouble?"

"Do you think you should be?"

Clark's head hung, his eyes squeezing closed.

She reached up to touch his face lightly. "We'll be up in a few minutes."

He nodded and disappeared up the stairs.

Martha sighed and went outside to find Jonathan in the barn. "Jonathan, I need you to take a break and come inside."

He set his pitchfork against the wall. "Sure. Everything okay?"

"It's your son."

"Which one?"

"Clark. He went to visit Lex."

She told him a shorter version of what Clark had just told her, and watched his expression shift with each turn in the story.

"And he just walked in with blood on his knuckles," she finished the story. "He's up in his room waiting for you."

"Is he okay?"

"He's a little shaken."

Jonathan nodded. "Is Lex okay?"

"I doubt it. But he's alive."

Jonathan took off his work gloves. "You've talked with Clark about hitting people, haven't you?"

"I have." She let her breath out. "I'm very concerned, Jonathan. He's hurting, and I know all of this has been hard on him, but he also made a lot of mistakes here. Breaking and entering, violence . . . He needs both of us today."

Jonathan wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Alright, let's go together."


	37. Anger Management

Martha's heart pounded as she followed her husband up the stairs. She knew Clark was in for a lecture, and she hated it, even though she knew it was necessary.

Of course, there was a lot that she and Jonathan didn't understand yet, which meant much of the conversation would be for clarification. There would certainly be many things about which they could encourage their son. But Clark had definitely done wrong as well, which meant Jonathan probably wouldn't be able to avoid scolding him.

She knew Clark hated being lectured, and Jonathan hated lecturing him. Grounding and extra chores were a formality—they all knew the guilt trip was the real punishment. And it was right for Clark. When Jonathan followed up a scolding with gentleness and encouragement, it ultimately left Clark stronger and more resolved to do better in the future. During the conversation, though, Martha knew her son would be in a lot of pain, and it would be difficult for her to watch.

Clark sat on the side of his bed resting his elbows against his knees when Martha and Jonathan came into the room. Martha sat beside him on the bed, while Jonathan sat across from him on a chair.

"Hi Dad," Clark said.

Jonathan cleared his throat. "Your mother told me you had a bit of a disagreement with Lex today."

Clark swallowed and nodded.

"I'm going to ask you some questions about the details. Okay, Clark?"

"Okay."

Jonathan gave Martha a quick glance, and she nodded for him to continue. "Your mother says you found a room in Lex's mansion with some evidence about your secret."

"Yeah."

"It sounds like Lex wasn't with you when you found that room," Jonathan said. "How did you find it?"

"I broke in." His voice was little more than a whisper.

"Into the mansion, or the room?"

"Both, kind of. I didn't actually break anything to get into the mansion, I just sped through the guards when they weren't looking. But I broke the lock into that room."

Jonathan nodded slowly. "What was in the room?"

"There were pictures of our family, and the cave walls, and some of the things Lex and I have been through together."

"Like what?"

"There was a video simulation of me getting hit by Lex's car when we first met."

Jonathan nodded. "Your mother tells me you didn't get much of an explanation from him about why he had all of those things."

"He started to, but . . ."

"But what?"

"I guess I cut him off. It seemed pretty self-explanatory to me."

"Oh? Maybe you can explain it to me, then."

"He's never really been my friend. He just wanted to know my secret."

Martha squinted. "That doesn't sound quite right to me, Clark," she said. "Hasn't he risked his life for yours a few times?"

"Okay, but that doesn't change the fact that he's been manipulating me and lying to me."

"That's possible." Jonathan kept his tone light and conversational. "Maybe he really was betraying your friendship, maybe he never stopped sending investigators after us. Or maybe it was more like what Chloe does with her Wall of Weird. Maybe he was just trying to figure out the truth about all of the impossible things he's seen." Jonathan leaned forward a little. "But you don't know what he was trying to do, because you didn't ask."

Clark's breath caught in his throat. "Does it matter? He's trying to figure out my secret. I have to stop him."

Martha jumped in: "Clark, do you think getting upset with him whenever he asks questions is going to stop him from looking into things?"

Clark flinched. "No."

"Probably not," Jonathan said. "And of course it matters, Clark. A friend's personal betrayal is a serious thing, very different from wanting to know the truth."

Clark threw Jonathan an indignant look. "Are you taking his side?"

"No. I'll have to hear his side before I can make any decisions about why he did what he did, just like I'm doing with you. When he comes home, I'm going to have quite a few questions for him, and there might be consequences for his actions, too." Jonathan's voice hardened a little. "But we're not talking about whether he was right or wrong, or how wrong he was. We're talking about how you handle it when you get angry with someone."

Clark looked down. "Yes, sir."

"Clark, what did you do today when you got angry?"

"I hit Lex," he mumbled to his shoes.

"Your mother tells me you made him bleed."

Clark nodded.

"Look at me and say it, son."

Martha ached to take Clark's hand, but now wasn't the time. His seafoam eyes met Jonathan's stony blue ones. "I hit Lex." His eyes watered. "Do I have to say the rest?"

"Yes."

Clark swallowed. "I—I made him bleed." A single tear fell. "I'm so sorry, Dad."

Martha couldn't resist putting a hand on Clark's back, rubbing softly. He seemed to relax a little into her hand—as difficult as the confession part was for him, he always seemed to breathe easier once it was off his chest.

Jonathan's his voice became gentle. "What did he say that made you so angry?"

"I told him he'd inherited his father's deception, and he . . . basically said the same thing back to me."

Martha let her breath out. Her heart broke for both of her sons, the impossible situation they were in, and the amount of pain they had each suffered today. She could see a flicker of pride in her husband's eyes—Clark had been protecting his honor, after all—but it quickly melted into sternness. "What did you do after you hit him?"

"Nothing. I just left."

Jonathan took a deep breath. "Son, you need to listen to me."

Clark wiped his eyes.

"I know our fall out with Lex has been hard on you. We had to make some tough choices, decisions no fifteen-year-old should ever have to face. I'm proud of you for going to try to make things right. In the future, I don't want to hear about you breaking and entering, but I know what you were trying to do, and it was a good thing."

The slightest hints of a smile played with Clark's eyes and lips.

"I can't imagine how difficult it must have been to walk into that room. He's withdrawn from our family for our dishonesty with him, so to find out that he's been less than honest with you must have been agonizing."

Clark's eyes shone once again.

"I don't tell you this enough, but I want to say again how proud I am of who I see you becoming every day. I can't tell people about your powers, or about the lives you save, but I always brag about your other strengths. Your compassion, your care for your friends, and the way you never give up on people."

Martha took his hand. Clark tensed when she did, and she knew why. He knew the lecture was coming.

"Then today, you got angry with a friend. And you did the exact opposite of what I would expect and hope you would do."

Clark's hand shook in hers. He never gripped it hard, like Lex had when he was being scolded, but his shaking let her empathize with him, and she knew he found her hand comforting.

"Lex hurt you, I understand that. Believe me, I do. But you didn't ask for an explanation. You didn't listen when he started to explain himself. You told him he was like his father, which you should know are the most painful words you could ever speak to him. Then when he rose to your bait, you rose to his, and you _hit_ him."

Clark hung his head.

"Look at me."

Clark looked back up, and Martha tightened her hold on his hand a little. She understood why Jonathan made his son look him in the eye to be scolded—he needed to be able to see when he was getting through so he didn't push too hard—but she also knew it was harder for Clark.

"We've talked before about how dangerous your powers can be. You _can't_ afford to lose control of your temper. I know you and I have a lot in common, but until today, I've always been so impressed by your ability to temper your anger with understanding and kindness."

He looked Clark deep in the eyes, and Clark cringed.

"I know you've hit people before—in self defense, or in defense of others, or to keep them from discovering your secret. It's incredibly dangerous for you to use violence in any situation, which is why we gave you alternate strategies for keeping your secret in emergencies. As for defense, I thought I could trust your judgement."

Clark lowered his eyes to the hand Martha held.

"No. Look at me." Jonathan's voice was suddenly sharp, and he waited for Clark to look up. "When we had those conversations, I didn't think to ask whether you'd ever hit anyone out of anger. I just assumed you knew how incredibly unacceptable and dangerous that would be. You're not in control of your strength when you're angry. No one is."

"I know—"

"If there hadn't been Kryptonite in that room, Lex could be _dead_ right now. Is that what you wanted?"

"Of course not!" Clark squeezed his eyes shut.

"Look at me, son, I'm not going to tell you again." Jonathan's tone hardened, and he waited for Clark's eyes to open. "If I ever hear about you hitting someone again, for any reason other than defense or absolute necessity, the consequences will be _severe._ Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Clark choked out.

Jonathan shook his head. "I've never been so disappointed by your choices, son."

Tears streamed down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Dad, I'm so sorry, I—" His voice caught, and his shoulders shook with sobs.

Jonathan sat down on the other side and put an arm around Clark's shoulders. Martha pulled Clark's head down onto her shoulder, stroking her fingers through her hair. She always did this at this point in the lecture. The truth was, it wasn't for him—it was to give her a chance to blink back her own tears. Even though it was necessary for Clark to feel the weight of his actions, she hated watching him hurt.

"I forgive you, son," Jonathan said, squeezing his shoulder. "Your mother and I both do. We love you very, very much. You're still an incredible young man, and we're so proud of you."

That only made Clark cry harder. Martha kissed his forehead, and Jonathan moved his hand to rub Clark's back. They let a few minutes pass, comforting him gently while he worked through his emotions.

"Hey," Jonathan said. "Listen."

Clark sat up and looked at his father.

" _I_ forgive you. But I'm not the one whose forgiveness you need."

Clark sniffed. "Lex will never forgive me."

"That's a very real possibility. But there's something that you need to ask yourself first."

"What?"

"Are you going to forgive him?"

Clark wiped away his tears. "I want to know why he did it."

"Of course."

"But . . ." He sighed. "I can forgive him if he can forgive me. When I saw him bleeding . . . it reminded me of that time I walked in on him after his father hit him."

"Oh, son." The love in his eyes was unmistakable.

Clark turned toward his father, melting into his arms.

"You're a good kid, Clark. You made a mistake and lost your temper. That doesn't make you Lionel. Actually, it makes you a lot like me."

"I know," Clark said. "I just feel terrible."

Over Clark's bowed head, Jonathan exchanged a glance with Martha. It was the look they always exchanged after the lecture part was done. If Clark was to expect any further discipline, they needed to tell him now, but Martha and Jonathan wouldn't have time to talk about it.

They usually only followed up the lecture with a punishment if Clark still needed it to learn from his mistakes. Martha was absolutely confident he had learned his lesson already, but today, the problem was the opposite. He was so wracked with guilt that she wasn't sure letting him off the hook would be merciful.

To Jonathan, she merely nodded. She trusted him to know what she meant.

"Okay, Clark." He patted Clark's back, and Clark let go and sat up. "You're going to write Lex a letter. You're going to apologize for breaking into his house, offer to pay for the replacement of the locks, and ask if the two of you can sit down sometime so you can understand why he has everything in that room."

Clark nodded. "I don't think he'll let me deliver the letter."

"I'll deliver it," Martha told him. "Lex's head of security likes me. He won't let me in if Lex has ordered no visitors, but I think I can persuade him to deliver a letter if I explain the situation."

"Is that all I have to do? Write the letter?" Clark looked fearful, but also like he hadn't expected the consequences to be so light.

"No," Jonathan said. "You're coming straight home after school every day for the next week, and you're confined to the farm for the rest of this weekend and next. You're going to have quite a bit of extra work."

Martha added, "After you finish handwriting a ten-page essay about how you're going to handle it next time you get angry."

Clark winced. Martha knew a week's grounding wasn't terribly harsh for doing something that could have killed his brother, but it wouldn't be pleasant, either, especially with the extra work. As much as she hated to see her son looking so forlorn, she was encouraged that he had shifted from being guilty about his own actions, to being unhappy about the consequences. That meant his mind would view it as sufficient punishment, and he'd stop berating himself.

Jonathan tousled Clark's hair, and both parents wrapped an arm around their son. Martha kissed him on the cheek, feeling her husband's strong arm pressed against hers on Clark's back, and just for a moment, she felt like maybe things would be okay.


	38. Chasm

Clark wiped away the last of his tears as he settled down on the couch in the loft to write his letter. He was thankful his parents didn't ban him from the loft when he was grounded.

There was a pretty big difference between just a grounding, and a grounding with extra chores. Being grounded really wasn't bad on its own. He just read books or shot hoops alone for a few days. But extra chores meant working from the time he woke up—two hours earlier than usual—to the time he went to bed. His dad didn't try to exhaust him with difficult chores when he was being punished, but simply gave him all the worst ones. Nauseating work, like cleaning out stables and spreading manure; tedious work, like weeding; time consuming work, like doing repairs. His powers helped, but not as much as he would like, and if his dad was going for a worse punishment, he made Clark stop using them all together.

He knew better than to dawdle on the letter or the essay, though. His dad probably wouldn't notice, but his mom would.

He propped up the book he was using as a flat surface for the paper, and began the letter:

_Dear Lex,_

_I'm sorry I broke into your house today. Can I pay you back for the lock I broke?_

That was a direct start, but direct was probably a good thing.

_I know my family has lied to you in the past, but I don't want us to lie to each other anymore._ _You were trying to explain what that room was about, but I didn't listen to you. I would like to hear what you have to say. Can you come to dinner sometime this week? If not, can I at least come to the mansion and talk to you sometime? I'm sorry for hitting you, and I promise never to do it again._

He hadn't wanted to imply any promises that he'd forgive Lex, but as he wrote, he realized he'd already forgiven him without even realizing it. It didn't seem appropriate to write that directly, though. This wasn't the first apology letter Clark's parents had made him write—apology letters weren't supposed to have accusations in them. Apology letters were supposed to offer to make restorations, though. Clark winced a little and added:

_I'll understand if you want to hit me back._

In some ways, it felt unfair, because he wouldn't feel it physically like Lex had. At the same time, he didn't think he could bear the emotional pain of his best friend punching him. He was about to erase the sentence, but his stomach squirmed—thanks to Clark, Lex had already felt that pain.

_I_ _f you want me to come to your house, can you call my parents and tell them? I'm grounded for the next week._

That was an embarrassing sentence to write, but it would probably make Lex feel a little better to know that Clark's parents were taking this seriously.

_Please respond soon. Mom and Dad both really miss you. So do I. The baby deserves to get to know both of his or her big brothers._

Clark took a deep breath and debated with himself about the next sentence, but ultimately decided to write it.

_Promise not to tell my parents, but if you come home, I'll tell you anything you want to know about my secrets._

That was a good ending. If nothing else, it would definitely get Lex to come home. Clark knew telling anyone his secret was a risk, but it was his parents who had said that Lex was a part of their family now. And at the end of the day, it was his secret to tell.

_Sincerely,_

He erased that word.

_Your brother,_

Better.

_Clark Kent_

He read back over the letter twice. He couldn't imagine Lex refusing it. He put it into an envelope, then left the loft to bring it to his mom.

* * *

Lex stood in front of the mirror, dabbing at his swollen, bleeding lip with a damp rag. He swore as the fabric made contact with the broken skin.

Physically, it had probably been the most painful punch he'd ever taken, besides maybe that one from his father that had left a scar. Most punches were more jarring than actually painful—slaps stung more, and backhanded slaps were the worst of both worlds—but all bets were off when it came to a hard punch in the mouth. Split lips stung and throbbed for hours _._

He'd also become spoiled. It had been a long time since he'd been hurt and unable to go to anyone for comfort. He knew he could probably talk to Helen, but he didn't want to. She knew about the Room of Obsession, but he'd mostly managed to convince her it wasn't a big deal. This would only show her how wrong he had been.

Emotionally, Clark's punch shouldn't have stood out in Lex's mind. It should have just been one blow of dozens, maybe hundreds he'd received in his lifetime. But instead, it felt like the most debilitating blow of his life. It was a symbol of Clark's denial of forgiveness, a permanent end to their friendship and to Lex's place in their family. A final answer to Lex's question of whether he could ever redeem himself in their eyes.

 _"You've known that answer for a long_ _time."_

Lex rinsed out the bloody rag. "Shut up."

_"No, I won't! There was nothing to redeem, Lex! They never loved you. They were only trying to keep you from the truth."_

"Maybe I didn't deserve the truth. Maybe I never earned their trust."

_"Why should you? They never earned yours. They've left you with nothing. Nothing but emptiness and questions. Don't you want to see them answered?"_

He wrung out the rag so hard, the corner ripped off. "I could still go back to them."

_"No, you can't, Lex. They're not trustworthy."_

He threw down the ripped rag and stormed away to his bedroom, where he slammed the door shut behind himself. "Maybe not, but I could trust them anyway."

The voice shouted with rage. _"It'll kill you!"_

"No, it'll kill you!"

_"And DESTROY you!"_

Lex reached for the decanter in his room and poured himself a shot, which he downed immediately. He was reaching for another when he realized it would numb the anger. He didn't want it to be numbed. It fed him, drove him . . .

No. It fed and drove the _darkness inside of him_. The darkness wasn't him.

He reached again for the liquor, but put it back down at the last moment. With or without the alcohol, the darkness would be stronger than usual today. He needed his wits about him if he wanted to avoid doing something he'd regret for life.

Lex lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. He could see the fire in Clark's eyes, hear his shouting insults, feel his fist connect . . .

Anguish filled him. He'd wanted so badly to forget. So, so desperately, to forget the Kents had ever lied, to run back into their home and their arms and their love. He'd _chosen_ to stay away from them—why had he ever made that choice? Now he couldn't go back if he wanted to. They'd never _take_ him back.

He tried to remember their comfort again, and just for a moment, he could feel it. Mrs. Kent's arms around him. Her fingers stroking his head, soothing the fear. Mr. Kent calling him his son.

Longing filled him, and his whole body felt like it was caving in. He pulled his knees closer to his chest, shaking, eyes watering. "Mom," he whispered, trying the name out on his tongue. He'd never called her that, and now he never would. Tears streamed down his face.

_"You call yourself a man!"_

"I miss them so bad . . . so bad . . ." He shook with sobs.

_"Pull yourself together! They did this to you!"_

He covered his face with his hands. "Maybe I deserved it."

_"Clark pushed YOU away. For lying. For LYING!"_

A pulse of anger made him shudder. Lex hadn't even lied. He'd kept the evidence from his investigations, but he hadn't sent investigators after Clark again.

But then, Lex had stolen that medical file, which Clark had probably seen in the Room of Obsession . . .

It didn't matter. It didn't compare to the number of times the Kents had lied. It never could. Never, ever, ever . . . He wiped away his tears. "It's not fair."

_"They're hypocrites. Manipulators. Like your father."_

"I fell for their trap . . . "

_"You should have seen it coming. Your father's played this game with you enough."_

"I should have known, I should have—"

_"Then don't fall again!"_

Fury coursed through his veins. He stood and pushed everything off his night stand. Glass from the lamp shattered.

He jumped back, his heart racing. That rage—that wasn't him. Not him.

_"Oh, it's you. Haven't I been telling you all these years, Lex? I. AM. YOU."_

He gripped his head. "Leave me alone! You're doing this to me!"

_"No, I'm not. They did."_

"But why . . . why would they do this to me?"

_"You'll never know until you find the truth."_

"I can't!"

_"But I can."_

Lex started to pace. He wanted to remember their love again, to reminisce in the beauty it had been, to let it fill him—but it burned out his insides, remembering what he had lost. The pain was killing him.

At the same time, anger over the lies and injustice boiled his blood. He wanted to know the truth, even if it meant stealing, or lying, or killing. No— _especially_ if it meant stealing, lying, and killing. The anger was building the darkness inside him, unleashing it from the inner shadows in which he'd caged it.

_"Pain or anger, Lex. One weakens you; one strengthens me. Make your choice."_

Lex paced frantically. With one trip across the room, he doubled over, weeping uncontrollably as he lamented the loss of his family; with another, he picked up the glass decanter and threw it against the wall, smashing it and crying out in rage.

_"PAIN OR ANGER, LEX. DEATH OR ME. CHOOSE NOW."_

But he never got to choose.

There was a terrifying moment when he felt as though he were slipping down a great incline, hands scrambling for something to hold onto, finding nothing, grasping at the ground beneath him as he peered down into a great abyss, a chasm leading to hell itself.

_"Let go, Lex. Let me take you. I'll find the truth."_

Lex gave one last feeble attempt to keep his grip on some semblance of control over his own life, then it slipped through his fingers, and he fell.

And the darkness became him.


	39. Reign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Direct quotes from 2x22, Calling. I own nothing.
> 
> I don't know if I've mentioned it, but the sequel to this story is in the works and will begin very shortly after I finish posting this one.

Lex Luthor felt better than he ever had.

He washed his face of the last traces of his weakness, ordered a servant to clean up the broken glass in his bedroom—they were used to broken items around the mansion, as his father had a hotter temper than he did—and started the walk down to the garage where his cars were kept.

His head of security approached him on his way down. "Mr. Luthor, Martha Kent came to the front gate."

"I thought I told you to turn the Kents away."

"She's already gone, but she asked me to bring you this." He held out an envelope.

Lex's name was written on the envelope in Clark's handwriting. He took the envelope and waved his security guard away. He might need to rearrange his guards' assignments; he knew his head of security liked the Kents.

Lex stopped by a drawer in the hallway, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for—a lighter. He set fire to the envelope and let it, along with its contents, burn down until the fire grew close too close to his fingers, then he slipped into a bathroom and dropped the last tiny corner of unburnt paper into a sink. Then he continued on his walk down to the garage.

When Martha and Clark had gotten sick, Lex had come into her office to talk to her about them, and she'd become very closed off, the way the Kents always did when they were hiding something. At the time, she was analyzing a blood sample. Ever since then, an unlabeled blood sample sat untouched in her refrigerator.

There was something special about that blood. If it had been Martha's, there would probably have been some mention of its abnormality in her medical file—there was nothing, so he doubted it. It was probably Clark's.

And that made sense. Clark was the unusual one.

He drove down to the hospital and strode down the hall to Helen's office.

_"What are you doing? Helen will know if you steal from her!"_

Lex winced. His inner weakness. He should have known it wouldn't leave him alone. If anything, he was surprised it had taken so long to catch onto what was happening and figure out how to speak up. He pushed aside its protests and put the key she'd given him into the lock.

An orderly came by as he was about to open the door. "Oh, hi. You know Dr. Bryce?"

"Not very well," she said.

Perfect. The orderly wouldn't bother to confirm his story with Helen if she didn't know her. "I'm her fiance. She asked me to pick something up for her."

She nodded and kept walking, and he let himself into the office.

Thanks to his idiotic choice to show her his Room of Obsession, Helen knew he was after evidence about the Kents and everything else connected to it. She was inconveniently intelligent. If he just took the blood, she'd know exactly what had happened. A clean crime was his style. He had to make this as different from his own style as he possibly could.

He threw a pile of papers into the air and watched them scatter across the floor.

_"NO! STOP, STOP!"_

He ignored the voice. He continued to toss papers until the surfaces were mostly cleared. Then he pulled out drawers, dumped out their contents onto the tables and floor, and threw the drawers themselves against the walls.

_"You son of a—"_

"Shut up," he muttered, reaching into the little refrigerator to pick up the blood sample. "I got what you wanted." On a second thought, he took everything out of the refrigerator, so it wouldn't look like the thief had been looking for anything in particular.

He glanced around the ransacked office. She would never suspect Lex had done this, and even if she did, she'd believe his denial. Maybe showing her the Room of Obsession had been the right choice to make. She'd believe he was inherently honest.

He checked his watch. He was supposed to be meeting her out in front of the hospital in five minutes to go over some wedding plans. On his way out, he checked his surroundings and, seeing no witnesses, broke the lock.

Lex went around the side door so he could meet her from the outside. She was already waiting for him, a clipboard in her hand. He listened to her ramble on and on about seating arrangements for the wedding, and then she actually had the audacity to suggest he view the wedding as an opportunity to make up with his father.

She was shocked by the trashed office. Lex immediately offered to call the police, to cast suspicion off of himself. It seemed to work.

She paced while he made the call, clearly distressed. For a moment, he felt for her—deep sympathy, but he quickly realized he was feeling what his inner weakness felt.

He tolerated her for awhile after that. She talked too much, and she was irritatingly intelligent and perceptive, but she was _really_ hot, so it was worth it. He figured he could probably get her to sleep with him after the rehearsal dinner, too.

The rehearsal dinner was a little pathetic, and extremely uncomfortable. Lex didn't have any family members or friends there, of course, which meant he spent most of the time making awkward small talk with Helen's relatives who he'd never met before and had never wanted to meet.

Helen and Lex sat side by side at the head table, listening to her family members make toasts. Lex figured it would be advantageous to have a wife who was a doctor to the Kents. And her body was a nice perk. But he didn't think it would last. He wished he weren't actually marrying her—it would be a lot of paperwork and hassle to get rid of her once he'd figured out the Kents' secrets and had enough of her body—but he couldn't exactly call it off now. If he did, he wouldn't be able to get what he wanted.

_"You're despicable."_

Lex threw on another fake smile as another of Helen's family members finished a toast.

_"I won't let you do this to her."_

He smirked. His inner weakness wasn't about to stop him.

 _"There's one thing you didn't count on,"_ the voice said.

Helen turned toward him, and he suddenly realized the voice was right. He'd miscalculated. Severely.

_"I still love her."_

Helen reached up, gently took his face in her hands, and kissed him deeply.

The effect was immediate—he didn't even have time to enjoy the kiss. He felt himself being shoved back into the shadows—

* * *

Lex opened his eyes.

Helen pulled back and smiled, and he kissed her again, this time as himself, though he had to cut the kiss short because his lips kept trying to smile.

The smile was nothing more than a reflex. The past eight hours had been the most terrifying of his life—trapped in his own body, fully conscious and aware of his actions but unable to control them—and her lips against his felt so amazing by contrast. He gathered her up into his arms and held her close, disbelieving how he ever could have deserved someone so brilliant and beautiful.

Meanwhile, he could feel his insides trembling. Maybe re-caging his inner darkness should have felt like more of a victory than it did, but the fact was that he now knew this was possible. The darkness could take him over without his consent.

It had never been strong enough to take over even for a minute in the past—not enough to truly force him to take actions. He'd been persuaded by it before, but it had always been him making the choices. Now it had taken over for a day. If it had done it once, it could do it again.

He and Helen retreated to his study after the wedding rehearsal. He left for a minute to pour a couple of glasses of wine, and returned to find her staring off into space.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said.

He knew what _fine_ meant. He braced himself for a tough night. "Helen, if we're gonna spend our lives together, we need to be completely honest with each other. You're always saying that." A pang of guilt arose in his stomach as he said it. He'd stolen from her.

"I found a file on Mrs. Kent in your bookshelf. It contained confidential medical records. From my office."

His heart sank, but he forced himself to remain casual. "I got that from one of the disease control agents who was investigating Mrs. Kent's case."

"You mean you bribed someone for it."

It had been closer to a threat, but he wasn't going to tell her that. "I've told you. The Kents are very important to me. I was concerned about Martha's health." That was painfully true, and yet it was still a lie.

 _You coward,_ he chided himself, and it wasn't his darkness talking. _You lying, two-faced coward._ He couldn't even blame his darkness for these lies. They were all him.

He looked Helen deep in the eyes. "What were you looking for anyway?"

"Something that was stolen from my office.

His heart jumped, but again, he kept his face straight. Years of practice had perfected his ability to do so. "Do you think I was involved in the break-in?"

"Please tell me you weren't."

Lex swallowed. The confusion and pain in Helen's eyes when she saw her trashed office, which he still remembered all too well from when his inner darkness was controlling him, haunted him even more than her accusations. The accusations didn't hurt, since they were true, but they were a bit unexpected—he hadn't counted on Helen finding Martha Kent's medical record. He'd forgotten that he moved it there from his Room of Obsession.

Lex found himself unable to lie to Helen when she asked directly. "If you really believe I'm capable of that kind of deceit," he told her, "maybe you shouldn't be marrying me."

But she knew him. She knew he was skirting the issue, refusing to deny his crime. "Maybe you're right," she said.

And with that, she put down her wine glass and left the study.

He never came to join her in bed that night. He knew she wouldn't want to see him, and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. He stared long and hard at the vial of blood, turning it over and over, cursing it.

_"This isn't over."_

He'd never hated this part of himself as much as he did tonight. "What do you suggest?"

_"You need to get it analyzed."_

He rolled his eyes. "What do I do about Helen?"

 _"Deny your involvement again,"_ the voice told him, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. _"And this time, be a man about it."_

It would be so easy. He could insist on his own innocence. He knew how to be crafty with his words. He could make her believe him. And they'd begin their marriage on a foundation of lies.

_"Let me do the talking. It'll be easy."_

No. He couldn't do it. That wasn't the kind of man Lex wanted to be. That was the kind of man his _father_ was.

And for however brief a time he had control over his own actions, he would make the right choice.


	40. Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Direct quotes from 2x23, Exodus. I own nothing.

The next day, Lex approached Helen before he could lose his nerve. She was clearly still annoyed with him, and his father had just been trying to talk to her, so he knew it was probably the worst time to have this conversation. But he didn't have much of a choice. The wedding was tomorrow.

"I don't want to go into this marriage with any secrets between us," he told her.

"I haven't held anything back."

He walked over to his desk and took out the metal vial, handing it to her. "I have. Look inside."

The shock on her face hurt more than any look Lex had received since the time he'd betrayed Mrs. Kent, but he forced himself to continue his confession. "I did break into your office," he said. "And that's what I was after. I told you because I'm trying to break the cycle. I don't want to be the person who did this anymore."

Her eyes glistened. "But you did do it, Lex. You committed a crime. You violated my privacy and that of my patients."

"I know," he managed to say.

"What did you think would happen? That you'd give it back, tell me what you did, and I'd just forgive you and we would live happily ever after?"

It sounded so ridiculous when she said it. He didn't deserve forgiveness. He didn't deserve her. He never had.

"I don't know what I expected," he told her honestly. "All I know is that I love you."

"I'm sure in some part of that twisted mind you do."

He didn't let himself flinch. It hurt because it was so, so true. His other half, the half he'd let take over, didn't love her in the slightest. It was attracted to her, but it didn't know what love was. The darkness was always saying it wasn't a part of Lex; it _was_ Lex. Maybe it was right. Maybe Lex himself didn't know what love was—maybe he'd always just been using her.

She turned and started to walk out of the study. His mind scrambled for something, anything to say to her to keep her from leaving him. Any proof he wasn't as lost a cause as she now believed.

"I didn't have it analyzed," he said.

She whirled to face him again, and a part of him found himself wishing he'd let her walk away to cool off rather than calling her back. "What was so important about this blood, anyway?"

"I thought it would give me the answers I've been looking for." Now, though, he couldn't remember why those answers had been so important to him, why they were worth sacrificing everything for.

"All it did was end this relationship," she said.

And then she did leave.

No matter how much he wanted to—and _oh!_ he desperately wanted to—he didn't let himself cry. He just let her go.

* * *

Her return came as a total shock.

Lex hadn't contacted anyone to tell them the wedding had been cancelled. Granted, there weren't many people for him to contact—he'd invited a few of his most trusted employees, and Lana, but all of the other wedding guests would be Helen's friends and family, not his.

Lex had put on the tuxedo and sat in his study, staring at their wedding rings, when Helen came in to tell him she still loved him.

Though the relief in that moment was immense, it wasn't exactly a joyful reunion. She reiterated how angry she was, and how unforgivable his actions had been, but for some reason she still loved him. He took it as no testament to his own character, but to hers.

He knew the start to their marriage would be rocky. He'd be fighting nonstop to earn her trust back. He almost asked if they could postpone the wedding, but he was too afraid that she would leave him if given a little more time to think about things.

And Helen leaving him was something he could _never_ allow to happen again. He had no idea what would become of him if she did.

Helen went to call her bridesmaids and get ready for the ceremony. Lex didn't need time—he was already dressed and ready to go. Instead, he got in his car and drove straight to the church.

Jonathan Kent stood outside the building.

After everything that had gone down—the Room of Obsession, Clark hitting him, Lex giving into his darkness—Lex hadn't worked out what was left of his feelings about the Kents. They'd lied, but Lex had lied as well. Yes, they'd lied many, many more times than he had, but they also insisted the secret they were keeping was dangerous information. If they'd been telling him the truth about that part, Lex's Room of Obsession was especially offensive, a slight against them and against the safety of himself and everyone he interacted with.

Lex had stolen Mrs. Kent's medical record and Clark's blood, and Clark had punched him. But Clark wasn't his parents, and Lex had cut himself off from all three of them. Clark had sent a letter, which Lex had burned unread. It occurred to him to wonder what that letter from Clark had said, but there was no way he could find out now.

He wasn't sure if it all added up to lingering anger with the Kents over unforgivable offenses, or to anger with himself for having violated their trust and privacy in a way even they couldn't overlook. Or both.

Lex winced and approached the front door. "What are you doing here?"

"It's your wedding day. I came to wish you well."

"I didn't invite you." Lex could have kicked himself for his tone. He forced himself to lower his voice. "How did you even know it was today?"

"Small town. Word gets around." Mr. Kent reached into his pocket. "I got you something."

Lex shifted his weight, torn between telling him to get lost and begging for his forgiveness. He didn't know if Clark had told him about the Room of Obsession.

Mr. Kent held out what looked like an antique pocket watch. Lex took and opened it—it was a compass. "A compass?"

"Yeah, it's a Kent family tradition. My father game me one on our wedding day, just in case I got lost going down the aisle."

Lex closed it and held it back out to him. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but—"

Mr. Kent took the compass, but then held it back out again. "Keep it." When Lex didn't move, Mr. Kent grabbed his hand and pressed the compass into his palm. "To find your way home."

Mr. Kent let go and started to walk away. Lex opened the compass once again, staring down at it, then he looked up at Mr. Kent, who was already approaching the parking lot.

"Mr. Kent."

He turned to face Lex.

"Look . . . maybe when I get back from the honeymoon, we can sit down and talk sometime."

Mr. Kent smiled. "I'd like that. Martha would, too."

Lex slipped the compass into his pocket and entered the church.

* * *

Martha looked up from her work in the barn as Jonathan entered. She hurried over to him. "How did it go?"

"I think there's hope," he said. "He didn't want to take the compass, but he did in the end. He said he might be willing to talk after his honeymoon."

She tried to take comfort in his words, but it was difficult to hold out any hope. It had been so long. "I'm worried, Jonathan. He's been through so much without us, and we never hear back from him after Clark sent his apology letter."

"It may take him some time, Martha."

"I'm worried about Clark, too. With everything that's been happening, and then hearing those terrible things from his biological father . . ."

Jonathan shook his head. "He says he's not hearing the voice anymore."

"Okay, but how long will that last?"

Jonathan put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "Let me worry about our older kids. You focus on taking care of yourself and the little one."

Martha put a hand on her stomach. So far, the bump wasn't particularly noticeable to anyone besides herself, at least not through her clothing, but sometimes she thought she could feel movement.

She took a deep breath, telling herself for the millionth time that she would get through things with her older sons. Her main comfort was in the fact that the challenges in her life, and in her sons' lives, seemed to be reaching a turning point. After all, she reasoned, things couldn't very well get much worse.

She had never been so wrong.


	41. Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Direct quotes from 3x1, Exile, and 3x2, Phoenix. I own nothing.

_Three months later_

Martha sat up on the couch deep into the night, her half-full coffee mug long since having gone cold in her hands. She wiped away her tears every so often.

It had all happened so quickly, and then so slowly. A single day of the worst, most sudden, most acute pain she had ever felt in her life, and then three months of wondering if death would have been more merciful.

In a single day, she'd lost all three of her children.

The littlest one was first. Clark had been lying about not hearing Jor El's voice, and he destroyed his space ship. Martha didn't know to stay away, and she never knew what hit her. When she woke up in the hospital, the first thing the doctor told her was that she would be fine, but her baby wouldn't.

Martha didn't even have time to consider whether to be angry with Clark before he was gone, too. He'd run away and taken Jonathan's motorcycle. Hours later, she received word that Lex's jet had gone down on its way to their honeymoon, and he was missing as well.

As her tears for her baby subsided in the following days, the tears for her older sons began.

It took Jonathan a couple of days to admit that he'd berated Clark hard enough to make him think the miscarriage was his fault, driving him away in the aftermath of the accident. Martha never mustered up any anger against her husband. Maybe she was too emotionally overwhelmed to feel anger on top of everything else. Or maybe it was the fact that Jonathan wept bitterly when he made his confession.

The newspaper started to fill with stories about crimes in Metropolis, and it became increasingly obvious to them that they were Clark's doing. As the weeks passed, she worried that her son was never coming home.

Meanwhile, search parties never found Lex. They never even found the remains of the LuthorCorp jet. Martha received the funeral announcement a couple of months later. It came in the wake of a particularly bad news story—a new bank robbery—and she didn't think she would have any more tears to cry, but they just kept coming.

Over everything else, losing the farm was just icing.

There was no describing the pain, neither the sharp and excruciating agony of each loss, nor the helplessness of knowing, day after day, that she'd lost everything, that things kept getting worse, that bad news kept rolling in, that she would never see her children again.

Martha focused as well as she could on taking care of the one person she had left to protect. She let Jonathan rage and shout when he needed to, weep when he was able to, and sleep when he hadn't in days. She made sure that he ate, that he didn't overexert himself on the farm, and that he stayed open and honest with her about everything he felt.

She herself didn't waste any time or effort in holding back her tears, but worked through them. Cried while she cooked. Cried while she cleaned the house. Cried while she helped Jonathan with the farm—it was too much for the two of them without Clark, but they had to try. Cried while she prayed for sleep, and for Clark to come home, and for Lex to be found, and for the farm to somehow be saved.

There was no sense in attempting to stop the tears, trying to power through, or seeking any true relief from the pain. Losing any one of her children would have been debilitating. Losing all three, as well as her home . . .

After Lex's funeral, Jonathan decided he had had enough. He announced to Martha that he wasn't coming back home until he had found Clark.

As Martha waited awake all night and into the next morning for Jonathan to return from his mission, unsure of whether to even dare to hope he would succeed, she remembered the words he'd spoken to her as they prepared their move out of the farm house:

_You remember the day we found out we couldn't have children? You grabbed my hand and you told me not to worry. You said that we would have happy days again, and you were right. We have had happy days. With Clark. And with Lex, too. But even though they're not here with us anymore, Martha Kent, I am here to tell you that we will have happy days again._

Hope was dangerous. Hope had crushed her over the past few months—her hope that Lex's search parties would be successful, that Clark would return, or that she would wake up and find that everything had been a dream. Hope could destroy her.

Still, she held onto it, for the sake of Clark. Her last living son.

And then he walked through the front door.

* * *

Lex stumbled into his study late at night. He took off his wedding ring, and with it a tiny portion of the weight of all that had happened.

The plane crash three months ago. Helen's disappearance. The most intense visceral fear he'd ever felt in his life as the nose dived down, dropping, plunging . . .

The water landing. His suit soaked through in an instant, his whole body nearly crushed under the freezing, churning waves, until he could pull himself onto one of the wings, coughing and sputtering and gasping for breath.

Shivering in the water, knowing death was only a matter of time. Pulling out the compass from Mr. Kent and finding his way to an island.

Passing out from the exertion.

Waking up covered in scrapes, cuts, and burns, alive and stinging from the salty spray of the ocean.

Dehydration so intense, he would have drunk the salt water despite knowing it would kill him sooner, if he hadn't found a fresh pond from the rains.

Sunburns so hot, his skin hurt to move, let alone to touch.

Starvation so painful, he forgot what his aversion to eating bugs had ever been.

Loneliness so desperate, he began to hallucinate wildly. For a little while, some twisted version of his inner darkness became a person, who he tried to kill.

Missing Helen. Missing Lana. Missing the Kents and cursing every moment he'd spent away from them by choice. Missing warm showers and soft beds and hot food.

Then the rescue. Coming home. Pointing a gun at his father, only to eventually find out that it was his beloved wife who had betrayed him. Who had never, ever loved him. Who had only cared about the money. He only just managed to escape the second time she tried to kill him.

Lex pocketed the ring.

"Well done, Lex. Well done."

Lex flinched. His father sat at the piano. He stood and walked over to Lex.

"That was a Machiavellian maneuver worthy of a Luthor."

Lex didn't meet his eyes. "I appreciate the kudos, but I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, Lex. Do you think I'd neglect to put surveillance on my planes?"

Lex said nothing. He should have known his father would somehow be watching him nearly get killed by his wife once again. He poured himself a drink.

"You know, Lex, I, uh . . . never imagined that you would fall in love with Helen. I'm sorry it happened, son, but don't be too hard on yourself."

Lex fought the urge to scream at his father that he knew nothing. Of course it had never occurred to him that Lex might fall in love. His father knew nothing of love.

On some level, Lex knew that if there was any time to be grateful for his genes, it was now. After all, it was his father's lessons that had kept him alive on that island. He knew if he had been anyone else's son, he probably would have died. The darkness inside him couldn't be his mother's doing, which meant it was his father's. And as much as that manifested darkness had tormented him on the island, it kept him sharp. Helped him find food and water and construct shelter. It wanted to survive even more than he did.

Lex knew he owed his father his life. He just didn't care. His father had made given him every means of surviving, but nothing to survive _for_.

Lex knew if it weren't for the Kents, he wouldn't know the difference. He wouldn't know what it was like to feel like he was worth something. He wouldn't know what a family was supposed to feel like. He would thank his father, he would go work for LuthorCorp in Metropolis. He would probably run into his father's arms.

He couldn't have the Kents. But he didn't want this pathetic alternative for a family, either.

"Lex?" His father took a step closer.

"Go to hell," Lex said, and he left the study.

He paced in the hallway. Despite so many weeks and months of fighting so hard to get off the island, his darker side had been right after all—he had no life to get back to.

His mother was dead. Julian was dead. Lucas was a psychopath. His father was a villain. His wife had never loved him. And the Kents . . .

Lex closed his eyes. He could almost feel Mrs. Kent's arms.

_"You can't go back, Lex. Have you forgotten? She lied to you."_

She _had_ lied. The Kents all had. But Mr. Kent insisted they'd had a good reason, even if he couldn't tell Lex what that reason was. Lex had never exactly been upset that they couldn't tell him everything they knew; it had been the sheer number of lies that hurt, and the way Clark had treated him. But maybe Clark's treatment really just had been the result of a bad day in the temperamental life of a teenager. And maybe the secrets they kept really were dangerous enough that they'd had to lie to protect him.

_"You can't trust them."_

Lex hung his head. He was one to be the judge of trustworthiness. He'd broken their trust terribly—he couldn't even try to claim he had a good reason for stealing Mrs. Kent's medical record and Clark's blood. And then there was the Room of Obsession. Lex still reasoned with himself that he could justify the Room of Obsession—it wasn't all about the Kents, after all—but if Lex really didn't believe it would bother them, why did he keep it locked up with a key only he had?

_"What are you going to do? Confess everything to them?"_

He'd have to. They'd promised they wouldn't lie to him anymore; if he wanted even a chance at rebuilding the relationship he'd had with them, he couldn't lie either. Of course, they already knew most of what he'd done, but he'd have to tell them about stealing Clark's blood. About breaking into Helen's office. About giving into the darkness.

_"What are you expecting to happen, Lex?"_

He really didn't know what to expect. They could push him away. They should. But some of Mrs. Kent's words from a year ago echoed in his mind, words he'd never been able to forget:

"I will be here every time. _Every. Time._ I will be here to help you pick up the pieces, and I will _never_ let you fall."

But he had fallen.

"Don't you _dare_ think I'm going to give up on you because you make a mistake."

This was more than just making a mistake, though. He'd let his darker side take over. He'd broken his promise to call her if it tried; he'd given up the fight. He'd become everything he was afraid of, everything the Kents hated. He'd become his father.

"You're stronger than your dark side, Lex. And we're going to make sure it stays that way."

But he wasn't, and his dark side just kept getting stronger. She'd been wrong about him the entire time she knew him.

If Martha Kent had never loved him, she wouldn't want him back anyway; if she _did_ love him, he'd have devastated her by staying away for so long, and by betraying her so many times. By now, she'd be too upset with him to want to see him again. He'd deleted every message and email from their family for the first week, and eventually blocked their numbers and email addresses.

The darkness spoke again: _"They won't take you back."_

Maybe they wouldn't. But Lex had to try.

It laughed. _"You think they'll want you as their son? Your own wife didn't want you."_

Adrenaline and rage surged through his veins. He hated the darkness. He _hated_ it. Being around the Kents had always weakened it somehow, or maybe strengthened him against it.

And that decided it. He was going back, whether the Kents wanted him to or not. And if they didn't want him, they could always send him away.


	42. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, this chapter fits well with the song "Pieces" by Red.

Lex got into his cheapest car and drove to the Kent farm. His eyes stung and his palms slipped on the steering wheel. His heart pounded so hard that he could feel his pulse in his arms, hot and tingling. It was late at night—they might not even be awake—but he had to do this while he had his nerve. The darkness tried to talk him out of it the entire time he was driving, but he didn't engage it in conversation.

Because of course, the voice was right. There was no way this could go well.

If the Kents had been malicious, manipulative liars from the beginning, then there was nothing to regain in the first place—they had never loved him. There was nothing to be rebuild. But the more he thought about it, the more he doubted it.

The more he considered everything in his Room of Obsession, with the clarity of mind that came with three months of solitude and conviction that he was going to die, the more believable it was that their secrets were truly dangerous. It was more likely that they _had_ once loved him, and had been trying to do the best they could for him, and he'd thrown that back in their face.

If that were the case, they'd never want to take him back as their son.

He kept driving, though, on the off chance that maybe they'd let him be their friend, or at least an acquaintance. Maybe he could still come around and visit every now and then. Probably not at their dinner table, but maybe he could sometimes shoot hoops with Clark, or talk with Mrs. Kent in the kitchen, or if nothing else, help Mr. Kent with farm chores. Lex could offer that. He knew they could always use the extra set of hands.

He started planning a speech in his mind. He'd tell Mrs. Kent that he messed up. He'd apologize for his staggering hypocrisy, then he'd tell her what he'd done. He would say he never expected her to trust him again, and then he'd offer to give her time to think about whether she might ever be able to forgive him. He'd tell them he was willing to take any consequences they wanted to inflict.

Once he pulled up to the farm, Lex considered himself in the rearview mirror. His face and head were covered in cuts and scrapes, wounds in various stages of healing from his time on the island. His wrinkled long-sleeved t-shirt and dark gray sweatpants covered the rest of the injuries, except for the ones on his hands. His eyes were darkened and baggy and haunted. He looked absolutely awful. The Kents would either take pity on him or be disgusted.

His legs felt like lead as he forced himself to their porch. He lifted his fist, but couldn't bring himself to knock. He glanced through the window, and he could see Mrs. Kent just inside, walking from the kitchen to the living room.

This was a stupid idea. He lowered his head, ready to go back to the mansion and deal with things on his own, like he always had.

Then she looked over.

She gasped, and her hands came up to her mouth, and she hurried toward the door.

He took a step back. He could already see it in his mind: she would send him away. And the pain would destroy him, and the darkness would take over, this time permanently—

The door swung open.

He cleared his throat and began his speech. "Mrs. Kent, I messed up . . ."

That's as far as he got.

"Lex!" Tears filled her eyes. She pulled him into an embrace, and he melted.

It had been so long. He had forgotten. So much of his pain was soothed away in the softness of her arms, and for a second, he couldn't even feel his guilt.

But then the shame flooded back in. She didn't know. She had no idea about everything he'd done wrong, or about the darkness taking over. She'd push him away when she found out. He didn't want to tell her, but he _had_ to.

"I did some things—"

"It's okay, sweetie." She still didn't let go. "It's okay."

"It's not, I—" His breath hitched, and he gripped onto her tighter. "I messed up really, really bad, Mom."

She pulled back, holding his arms.

He winced—the name had slipped off his tongue. He had never, ever meant to imply he should be her son again.

"You're home," she said, and her cool hands moved up to cradle his face. Joy filled her sparkling eyes, and she kissed his cheek. "You're _home._ "

All at once he knew.

It didn't matter how bad it was. When she found out he'd let the darkness take over, she might get upset with him. She might yell at him, or give him a look of disappointment that would hurt enough to bring him to tears. She might never trust him again; she might even punish him, in her own way.

But she would never, ever push him away.

Her face blurred, and tears streamed down his cheeks. "Yeah, Mom. I'm home."

She lowered her hands and stepped back, turning to look over her shoulder. "Jonathan!"

Mr. Kent came running in from the kitchen. He stopped short when he saw Lex. His face ran through a series of emotions—shock, then anger, then relief, then joy. He finally closed the distance between them and put both arms around Lex.

Lex had fuzzy memories of Lilian's hugs, but he'd never known the true embrace of a father. The strength and solidity of the arms around him steeled him and made him forget what fear was. For just a moment, he couldn't imagine the darkness in him ever having the audacity to speak again.

Mr. Kent pulled back and squeezed Lex's shoulder. "Clark's upstairs getting ready for bed. Go talk to him."

"Then come back down," Mrs. Kent told him.

Lex swallowed. "I don't know if he'll want—"

" _Go_."

Lex couldn't deny Mr. Kent's authoritative voice. He made his way up the stairs as quickly as his weakened legs would allow, and he nearly ran into Clark in the hallway.

Shock filled Clark's eyes. "Lex."

Lex couldn't help but cringe a little. "I'm so sorry—"

Lex was nearly thrown to the floor as Clark threw himself into his arms. Mrs. Kent's embrace had been gentle and firm; Mr. Kent's was solid and strong; Clark's was utterly reckless and tight. His fingers dug hard into Lex's back, and his face pressed into the side of Lex's head. Clark's parents had made Lex feel loved, but Clark made him feel even more like he'd been desperately missed. Tears filled Lex's eyes again, but Clark held on for long enough that he had time to blink them back.

Clark finished off the hug with a couple of slaps to the back that stung his sunburned skin—Lex couldn't have possibly cared less—and pulled back. "Did you get my letter? Before you left, I mean."

Lex winced. "I never got to read it."

"Oh. I'm so sorry for punching you, Lex, I'll never, ever—"

Lex held up his hands. "It's long forgiven, Clark. If you can ever forgive me for that room—"

"I forgave you the day I found out about it."

Lex felt like the weight of the world had been removed from his shoulders. "We'll talk more tomorrow, okay?"

Clark nodded, and Lex went back down the hall. Mrs. Kent was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

"My son," she whispered. She kissed Lex's other cheek and pulled him back into her arms.

Lex let his eyes close and just rested. He never wanted her to let go.


	43. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of the story—chapter 44 is a short epilogue. However, the sequel is ready to begin shortly after this releases!

Three children lost on a single day. Two children back in a single week. Despite the net loss, the pain back then wasn't worth comparing with the euphoria Martha felt now.

Clark's homecoming had been purely joyful. She'd hugged him over and over, insisted that she didn't blame him for the miscarriage, then she'd allowed Jonathan to help him figure out what had happened. There had been aftermath to his crimes in Metropolis, but they'd gotten through it together.

Lex was more complicated. He'd been away for longer, she'd been convinced he was dead, and once she'd gotten over the initial shock and elation of seeing him, she started to see how physically damaged he really was. She let him rest on the couch while she called and left a message for Lex's doctor to see if he could come by the Kent farm in the morning—she'd gotten the phone number from Lex's head of security ages ago.

Lex didn't want to talk much about his time on the island, and Martha didn't press him. She sent him over to the kitchen table and heated up some leftover casserole from dinner. He was only about halfway through it when he ran to the bathroom to vomit.

Martha could have kicked herself—she should have known he wouldn't be able to take such heavy food so soon after having been starved for three months. She poured him a glass of milk and told him to take small sips, which he did.

She had him change into a pair of shorts, and asked him to sit on the bathroom counter so she could attend to the cuts and burns on his face, chest, arms, legs, hands, and feet. She figured she'd let the doctor take care of anything she couldn't see. Martha was aware that sitting on the counter would probably make him feel like a five-year-old, but she didn't care, and he didn't protest.

He hissed and tensed when she dabbed on the antiseptic, sighed and relaxed when she applied the aloe, and held still when she began to bandage the worst of the cuts that were still open. Then she brought him to the guest room and made him lie on his stomach on his bed so she could take care of his back and head. He fell asleep shortly after she finished with the antiseptic, and she had to complete the rest very gently so as not to wake him.

Martha went down to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee—this would be her second all-nighter this week, but she didn't mind this time—then she went to sit down on the couch in the living room. Jonathan was already waiting for her there.

She didn't say anything. She just sat beside him. He wrapped his arm around her.

"Get some rest," he whispered. "You're always the one who stays up when you're worried about the kids. Let me be the one to stay awake for them this time."

She smiled and rested her head on his chest. Normally, she would have told him to go to sleep anyway—he did more of the work on the farm, and it couldn't be done after an all-nighter—but tomorrow was the garage sale, and it wouldn't be as physically strenuous as his usual routine.

"We still have to talk with Clark," she said.

"He knows he has work to do to rebuild our trust and make restorations."

"Are you going to lecture him?"

Jonathan sighed. "I did before he left. The problem was, I did it while I was angry. I made him feel like you getting injured and losing the baby was his fault." He shook his head. "He deserves the scolding of his life for putting on that ring, but I'm not going to do it."

"I'll talk to him," she said, trusting he knew what she meant. "Either way, he should be grounded for at least a month."

"That's going to be tough, in the little apartment over the Talon."

"Then we won't ground him to the apartment. We'll find him community service work to do. He says he's already returned the money to the banks he robbed, but he still needs to pay Chloe back for the ring he stole, and I think he should help you rebuild the storm cellar, if not do it himself . . ." She sat up a little straighter. "It's going to be a long recovery."

"Clark will be fine, Martha," Jonathan said, his gaze growing distant again.

She winced. "You're worried about Lex."

"Can you blame me?"

She looked him right in the eyes. "We're going to have to tell him the truth."

He nodded slowly. "I know. But is it the right thing?"

Martha shrugged. "Anything else is wrong."

"But if the wrong person finds out—"

"The wrong people _have_ been finding out. Sam Phelan. Roger Nixon. Morgan Edge. We've had some close calls, but we've gotten through them all. And other people have known, and they haven't tried to cause problems. Pete's been a good friend to Clark. So was Ryan James, and Kyla Willowbrook, and—"

"None of them are _Lionel._ "

"Lionel was pretending to be blind for several months. For all we know, he might already have seen Clark use his powers at some point. Lex is our best defense _against_ him." Martha took a deep breath. "And he's our son."

"Is Clark okay with this?"

"Clark would tell him with our approval or without it." Martha looked down. "You didn't read his apology letter. He was planning to tell Lex months ago."

Jonathan's breath caught in his throat. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I would have, if Lex had come home." She smiled. "And now he has. They both have."

Jonathan wrapped his arms around her again and kissed her head. She relaxed into his arms, resting her head on his chest once again.

She didn't think she was going to be able to sleep, but within minutes she had drifted off.

* * *

Lex woke up lying on his stomach over the covers on the most comfortable bed he'd slept in for months, his skin stinging less than it had in weeks. It took him a moment to remember where he was, but even in the seconds when he didn't know, he felt no panic. He felt warm and safe.

He had his family back.

The darkness wasn't gone. He could still feel its presence, caged deep inside of him. It was still strong, probably even stronger than it had been before he was stranded on the island, and Lex knew it could still take him over.

Lex couldn't say he wasn't afraid of it. It still had the power to destroy his life. But it had taken a hard hit the night before, and it was quiet. And neither he nor it had the power to make his family stop caring about him.

He still hadn't confessed everything he'd done. He knew there would probably be a lecture for him when he did, and it would hurt. There might be punishment. It could be years before they trusted him. Even aside from that, his body and mind had been through severe trauma, and he would take time to heal.

But he _would_ heal. They all would. He believed that.

He got up, put on the t-shirt Mrs. Kent had bought for him all those months ago, and went down to the kitchen. The whole family was already down there finishing breakfast. Mrs. Kent stood and came over to hug him.

"Sorry, Lex. We would have waited for you, but we didn't know how long you were going to sleep."

He relaxed in her arms. He couldn't believe he'd ever walked away from this. "It's okay, Mom." This time, his use of the word was a conscious decision.

"Have a seat, Lex," Mr. Kent said when his wife let go. He gestured to the empty space across from himself.

Lex sat, looking around at the remains from breakfast. He still wasn't sure if he could eat. Mrs. Kent smiled and poured him a small glass of orange juice. He took it and sipped slowly.

"Lex . . . we've been talking. All three of us."

Lex swallowed and put the glass down. "Everything okay?"

Mr. Kent shook his head. "No, it's not okay. You're a part of our family, and we love you, and we've been lying to you. We don't want to do that anymore. We don't want to keep secrets from you, either." He took a deep breath. "We may not know the answers to all of your questions, but we're willing to tell you everything we know."

Lex could hardly believe what he was hearing. A thousand questions fought for first consideration in his mind: about that first day on the bridge, about the caves, about the meteor shower, about the octagon . . . Lex could feel his insides trembling with excitement. "You're _sure?_ "

Clark nodded. "We should have told you months ago, Lex, I'm sorry. I know you've had a lot of questions. Any place you'd like to start?"

Lex thought back to that day on the bridge, wondering now more than ever what had really happened. He breathed in to ask. But he also remembered what Mr. Kent had told him, five months ago:

_As much as you're going to hate to hear it, the secrets we keep really are for your protection and ours._

_I want you to think about the past year and a half. Well over a dozen of Clark's classmates have died. His Kawache friend, Kaya, passed away as well. You've had to save Clark's life several times, and he's saved yours as well._

_I'm not bringing these things up to remind you of all the things you don't know. I'm bringing these up to give you an idea that what we're dealing with is dangerous. For all of us._

Lex hadn't believed it at the time. He'd thought they were just making excuses to keep him out. Now, though, he believed every word.

And he knew what to ask.

"Yeah, I do have a few questions," Lex said.

Clark slid up to the edge of his seat, his eyes fixed on Lex's face.

"When you said your secrets were dangerous, and you were keeping them to protect me and yourselves, was that the truth?"

"Of course." Clark looked almost offended.

Lex nodded. "Do I _need_ to know your secrets?"

Mr. Kent rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, no, but—"

"And you promise if I ever need to know, or if it ever somehow becomes safe for me to know, you'll tell me? No more lies?"

"Yes." Mr. Kent didn't hesitate.

Lex sat back in his chair. "Then that's all I need."

The darkness inside him screamed and raged, but he felt none of what it felt. It was as if he were hearing it from a distance, and he didn't even care what it was saying. The Kents had just taken away most of the darkness's ammunition against him. It had always tried to gain control over Lex by making him investigate their secrets. Now he knew that if the curiosity ever drove him to the edge, he could just ask them, rather than breaking the law or betraying someone's trust out of anger.

He knew it wasn't a total fix. Ideally, he would never be tempted to ruin anyone's life just because he felt deceived. But it was a step.

Clark's voice caught in his throat. "But . . . Lex . . ."

"Is there a reason you need me to know?"

"Well, no. But I want you to."

"But is it _safer_ for you if I don't know?"

"I—I guess so . . ."

"Then I don't want to know, Clark." Lex shrugged. "I care more about your safety than your secrets."

Clark looked him in the eyes. "Then be careful what you ask me in the future, Lex. Because I'm never lying to you again."

"Understood." Lex smiled. "And likewise."

Mrs. Kent reached out and placed a hand on his. "Sweetie, I am _so_ proud of you."

"Don't be proud of me yet." Lex winced. "I haven't told you everything I did before the island."

Mr. Kent glanced down at his watch. "And we'll talk about it, but not right now. We need to get moving on the garage sale."

Lex raised his eyebrows. "Garage sale?"

"Ah, we didn't get to tell you." Mr. Kent took a deep breath. "We lost the farm. We're moving in to the apartment over the Talon until I can get a job and we can get back on our feet again, so right now we're doing some purging to fit into the smaller space."

"You _lost_ the farm?" Lex knew they'd had their financial difficulties, but he had no idea they were that bad.

Martha and Jonathan exchanged a look. Jonathan cleared his throat. "Clark was . . . away, for the entire time you were. We couldn't keep up with the work, and—"

"You lost the farm."

Jonathan lowered his head. "We'll be okay, Lex. We're going to—"

"No, no. I'm not letting that happen. I'll buy the farm and put your names in the deed."

"Lex, you don't have to do that."

Lex knew Mr. Kent would protest, but he wasn't going to bend on this one. "You're the one who said we're family."

"Yes, but we've talked about how I feel about gifts like that, and about feeling indebted. I need you to respect that. I could never—"

"Respectfully," Lex said, "shut up, Dad."

Mr. Kent's jaw dropped.

Lex blinked. The word _Dad_ had meant something very different to him for his entire life up to this point, and it felt much weirder to use that term for Mr. Kent than it did to call Mrs. Kent _Mom._ However, he knew that if he didn't start using the word, its meaning would never change in his mind. He made up his mind to keep calling them _Mom_ and _Dad_ , no matter how strange it felt.

He made himself focus on the issue at hand. "You _really_ think I'm going to let you lose the farm? After everything you've done for me?"

"Lex, you don't owe us anything."

"And you won't owe me anything. Do you have the _vaguest_ idea of how little that amount of money means to me? How could you _possibly_ expect me to stand by and let you lose the farm when I could have saved it with no effort at all?" Lex shook his head. "Mom, what did you say to me when I walked in that door?"

"I—I said . . . you're home."

"Yeah. This is my home, too. I might not live here all of the time, or even most of the time, but coming here is coming home for me." Lex folded his hands on the table. "I'm buying the farm. You're not changing my mind."

Mr. Kent ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to say, Lex."

"I do." Mrs. Kent looked Lex right in the eyes. "Thank you, Lex. It means a lot to us, more than you know." Her eyes narrowed. "But if I ever hear you tell your father to shut up again, you're going to be tasting soap, young man."

Lex smiled, and then his smile turned into laughter—not quite a laugh of humor, but one of pure joy. Clark and his father joined him in his laughter a moment later, and his mother not long after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also putting up a one-shot that takes place between this chapter and the epilogue :)


	44. Epilogue

Jonathan put away the last of the dishes from dessert. He could still hear the TV going in the living room, but the laughter and chatter of his family had died down long ago.

Despite cancelling the garage sale, it had been a long day. There was more work than ever to do to catch up on the farm, now that they were getting to keep it, but most of it would have to wait until tomorrow.

Lex's doctor had arrived shortly after breakfast. While Lex and his doctor retreated into the privacy of the guest room, Martha had sat Clark down and talked with him about his choice to put on the red ring. Somehow her lecturing was both harsher and more loving than Jonathan's usually was. She never raised her voice, but she still kept Clark crying for several minutes while she laid into him before she switched to comforting words, and in the end he was smiling and even laughing.

They grounded him, but it wouldn't have mattered. The sheer number of extra chores to get the farm running again would be more than enough to occupy his extra time for the next month or two, so other than making sure he knew he needed to return or replace everything he'd stolen, including Chloe's class ring, they let the natural consequences stand. Martha was also great about reiterating to Clark the things that weren't his fault, so by the time they went back to their work, his demeanor was lighter than ever.

Once Lex woke up from the nap his doctor had told him to take, Jonathan and Martha sent Clark out to work on chores so they could talk with their older son. He still didn't want to talk much about the island, but he told them about his darkness taking over, about stealing from Helen and lying to her, and then about her attempts on his life. Jonathan's heart tore for his son—he couldn't imagine the pain of discovering his wife had never cared about him. Lex's breath hitched as he finished his story, and he asked to be left alone to mourn. They left him in the guest room, but they could still hear his soft sobs from out in the hallway. Martha cried for him in Jonathan's arms.

They decided against lecturing him for the things he'd done wrong, at least for the time being. Lex didn't need to be told to feel the weight of what he'd done. He'd more than paid for his crimes against Helen, and he was scared to death of the darkness. They'd need to talk quite a bit about what to do when the darkness tried to take over again—when, not if—but Jonathan didn't think it was an immediate danger. Lex had agreed to stay with them until the last of his cuts and sunburns healed or until he could eat normally without vomiting, whichever came last. That gave them at least a few days, maybe even a couple of weeks.

As exhausted as Jonathan had felt by the time they all sat down at the dinner table, it was the best exhaustion he'd felt in months. He never would have had it any other way.

They all sat around the TV watching a movie after dinner. Martha heated up one of her homemade pies, and even Lex managed a couple of bites. Jonathan offered to take their dishes when they were finished, and he left them in the living room.

After putting away the last dishes, Jonathan braced his hands against the kitchen counter. His prayers over the past few months had all been desperate pleas, but tonight he had nothing to ask for, only thanks to give. For his sons, of course, but more than anything for his wife. His amazingly beautiful, impossibly strong, ferociously compassionate wife. Without her unrelenting stubbornness, he wouldn't have his sons, either.

He went out to the living room to tell her how thankful he was for her, but soon found why he'd stopped hearing their voices.

She sat in the middle of the couch. Clark was curled up on her left side, his head laying on her lap, the way he used to fall asleep when he was eight years old. Lex sat on her right side, head resting on her shoulder, eyes closed.

Martha's eyes opened and met Jonathan's. A faint smile played with her lips as she tousled Clark's hair with her left hand and squeezed Lex's shoulder with her right.

Jonathan just stood and watched them for a moment, eyes stinging, momentarily paralyzed by his overwhelming love for all three of them.

When he'd managed to blink away his tears, he almost went over to sit on the rocking chair beside them, but decided to let his wife have her moment with the sons she had chosen. Jonathan gave her a nod and a smile, which she returned, then he started heading up to his bedroom to sleep. He could join them in the morning. They would still be there.

_The End_


	45. Followup

**Hey all! The first chapter of the sequel, _Truth & Justice_, has been posted.**

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_Truth & Justice_ focuses on the continuing development of the relationship between Lex and the Kents and his ongoing battle with his darkness through seasons 3 and 4, as well as the impending fallout with Lionel.

This is my passion project. I adored and admired Lex's bravery, kindness, nobility, and brilliance in the first ~4 seasons of _Smallville_. His fall broke my heart, even thought I knew it was coming. Lex survived ten times the trauma usually required to turn a character into a villain before he even began to consider that path. Once it became clear he was skirting the edge, even his closest friends didn't stick around long enough to help him with the pain that drove him to ultimately value power over love and friendship. It seemed to me he never had a fair shot. So this series is my humble attempt at giving him a fair shot.

One last thanks to those who have read this far, followed, favorited, and/or reviewed. Special shoutout to those who have left multiple reviews on this story over the past few months: jakrar, 00Aredhel00, p0em, Whyskeysour, and Lysen5972. Your enthusiasm helped keep me motivated, your kindness helped me with the isolation from the quarantines, and your feedback made me a better writer. Thank you all!

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This is a current list (as of August 2020) of my other "Smallville" works, posted both here and on AO3. It's mostly for my own reference, but feel free to check them out if any catch your interest.

Part of _ISLO_

 _Brave Enough_. Pre-series. 6-year-old Lex tries to hide his father's abuse from his mother.

 _His Father's Son_. Missing scene from Ch. 17. Jonathan tries to convince Lex he's nothing like Lionel.

 _Red Kryptonite_. Missing scene between Ch. 43 and the epilogue. Martha addresses Clark about his time in Metropolis.

 _No Sign of Weakness_. Post- _ISLO,_ pre- _T &J_. Martha catches Lex self-harming.

Compatible with _ISLO_

 _Raising an Alien_. Pre-series. Jonathan and Martha learn how to care for Clark in his toddler years.

 _A Different Game_. Season 1. Lana and Lex struggle to get the Talon up and running.

 _Save Yourself_. Season 1 (finale). Gabe Sullivan implores Lex to flee Smallville to get away from Lionel.

Separate from _ISLO_

 _If He Knew._ Season 1. Lex finds out Clark's secret at the bridge (long-term project).

 _If He Listened_. Season 3. Clark reveals his secret to Lex upon discovering the Room of Obsession.

 _How to be a Friend_. Season 5. Lex reflects on the loss of Clark's friendship.

 _After She Dies_. Season 5. An extension of _Lexmas_ in the form of a letter from Lillian.

 _Not My Future_. Season 5. A satirical extension of _Lexmas_ where Lex questions whether Lillian really knows the future.


End file.
